


Forest, My Home

by roihu678



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Introversion, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soul Bond, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 122,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roihu678/pseuds/roihu678
Summary: The songs of the cones and the talk of the needles filled the forest air. Wind in her veins, stealth in her toes, blaze in her heart, she listened to her soul trees humming. The dark green spruces spoke her language. // Slow romance, based on friendship. Post-LotR. Legolas/OC (female elf).





	1. The Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story of elven love, friendship, emotional intimacy and seeking harmony. The rating is T, and will be T till the very end. Nothing comes easily to the main characters, but ultimately this is a true love story with a happy ending. 
> 
> I try to honour Tolkien's idea of elven love, meaning that it is eternal and mutual and thus they can love only one person in their lifetime. I have, though, integrated some original ideas into the story. The most impactful alteration is the Bond of Love, which ties the souls of the elves together eternally and provides them with the gift of feeling the emotions of the other.
> 
> In the beginning of the story Legolas is a Marchwarden of Mirkwood. There will be explanations in the story as to why he has chosen that path at some point between the time of The Battle of Five Armies and by the time he joined the Fellowship of the Ring. The story begins right after the Ring has been destroyed and Legolas is in Minas Tirith waiting for someone to bring him his crown for Aragorn's coronation. No one else but his Marchwarden partner gets the assignment from King Thranduil.
> 
> Marchwarden partner - or a whirlwind, depending on her current mood.
> 
> My story follows for the most parts the original stories depicted in the 6 movies of Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. I have read the novels several times, and I love them, but this story is in the movieverse. I don't own Lord of the Rings.
> 
> This story is complete on my computer (wordcount 200K), waiting for the last editing round. I'm going to publish it chapter by chapter, about one chapter in 2-3 weeks. Total number of chapters is about 40. It consists of two parts and the first (chapters 1-14) is complete.  
> Part I: Spring Winds (chapters 1 - 14) complete  
> Part II: Serpentine Paths (chapters 15 - ) in progress
> 
> Thank you my wonderful betareaders IKindaWriteSometimes and Wind and Sky22!
> 
> Also many thanks to protoni and Pippalunga. I am forever grateful for your support and believing in this story!

Forest, My Home

_For Marko_

Chapter 1, The Assignment

It was a land of trees. The trees had been there from the beginning. They gave life, they gave shelter. And the trees would be there when the land would no longer hold elves.

The trees no longer remembered how it felt when the little fingers of the elven children curled around their branches, when the tiny feet swung on them. The paths around the forest were grown thick with hay and the bushes no longer remembered how it felt when the arrows pierced them, from missed shots of the children trying to learn archery.

The trees did not stop growing, though. The birds did not end their singing and the wind did not stop blowing. Only the elves numbed. Their wombs died. Their hearts coldened. Of all creatures of Middle Earth the elves were capable of supreme joy and of the most devastating grief - which now smothered all Elvenkind - created by the looming end of the Time of the Elves. A grief, which had begun centuries ago when all elves, in all elven Kingdoms, had been forbidden the joy of children. 

How to be a mother; how to be a father; the elves did not know anymore. And it saddened the trees. 

A tiny elf lady sat on a branch of a tall spruce listening to the ancient trees humming their sad songs softly to her. Even though her heart was woeful too, this forest was the only place she wanted to be today. If there was a home for her in this world, it would be this spruce - or any spruce, for they had the same spirit. Her home was this forest - or any forest, for only in the forest she could breathe freely, for only in the forest she could live truly, for only in the forest she could feel herself rightly.

The sun was shining through the foliage, making sliding shadows as the branches swayed the wind and the curious dance of two squirrels around the trunk of the spruce made her smile. She let the scent of the forest fill her senses and the smell could not be named as anything other than spring. The snow had melted, leaving the land bare and making it smell of earth. The forest whispered to her soul, inviting her to the spring. Soon everywhere would be full of beautiful blooming flowers, but that time was not now. Now the land was still brown after a long winter, but she could feel the anticipation of the summer in her heart. 

A small flock of common cranes flew above her and the majestic birds humbled her, making her remember why again she was sitting idly on the tree branch: she had free time from her duties in the Marchwardens of Mirkwood. Her partner had been away for over six months and almost as many months ago Sulrochil had stopped trying to guess when he would be back.

So she was having free time. Free time to feel the spirit of the forest, free time to experience the shady greenness of the vast woods around her, enjoying in her soul the freedom of tortures from past decades. Although the worst spike of pain had left her heart, the suffering had not left her fully. In the daylight, in the middle of the soothing sounds of the wind rustling the leaves, under the arches of the dark green treetops, she could be free of sorrow - and it made her soul sing. The song was refreshing and full of hope; Sulrochil sang it silently in her heart and it made the trees hum their pleasure.

“Sulrochil, get down! There is someone to see you.” She heard her cousin’s voice somewhere down on the ground and, for the blink of an eye, she reprimanded herself for not being aware of her surroundings but soon her soul filled with exhilarating joy.

“Finally!” Sulrochil cried cheerily and began climbing down, “For six months I have been waiting for him. For six long months, Rhawon!” 

Like a squirrel she weaved herself through the thick tangle of the spruce branches and jumped onto the ground. “Here I have been sitting and doing nothing while he has been merrily jaunting through all Middle Earth. And now when he finally is back, I am not even sure if I should punch him on the nose or hug him. But I guess I will make up my mind when he dares to show up.” Sulrochil checked her weapons so that everything was in order, shook the majority of the spruce needles out of her clothes and with a whip of her hair turned to look at her cousin. “So where is he?”

“Sulrochil,” Rhawon sighed and continued slowly, like talking to a child, “How far we are from my house?”

“What that has to do with anything?!” Sulrochil exclaimed.

“It has everything to do with this,” he continued, “but if you are not aware of simple directions and distances - what a Marchwarden you must be - I will tell you. We are 300 yards from my house.”

“Right,” she said glancing briefly at the direction of his house where she also was dwelling at the time, “I am not that empty-headed.”

“If he should be over there waiting for you at my place, what would happen my dear cousin?”

“Oh,” Sulrochil’s eyes lost their shine and she turned to look darkly at the spruce cones on the ground by her feet.

“‘Oh’, indeed,” Rhawon said, “You would sense his location.”

“It is not him.”

“Finally you figured it out. If you would use your head before jumping to conclusions you would have realized it.”

“I was breathing the forest,” Sulrochil said, “I need it to fill my soul.”

“Instead of feeling the forest,” Rhawon said, “you could have used your half a year for learning to hide while you move - like I have told you thousands of times. You should not throw your gift away.”

“And I have told you thousands of times, I will never do that. Learning to move in my hiding mode would really mean I would have to abandon my weapons and only trust my hiding. But never in this world shall I abandon my weapons! I am a Marchwarden!”

“You could quit killing.”

“I do not kill anyone for the joy of killing,” Sulrochil said, “I kill if I have to.”

“You do not have to kill. No one has to.”

“Someone has to defend this land and safeguard our people,” she insisted.

“There are not many who have your skill and you should use your gift of hiding better. There are hundreds stronger than you to defend our kingdom -”

“You mean I am worth nothing and a complete fool and a -”

“Stop that nonsense,” Rhawon said, “I mean just that when you came down just now you made more noise than a thirteen dwarves rolling in wine barrels through a mountain.”

“How would you know what kind of a noise they make?”

“I was there.”

“Why? You do not carry weapons.”

“Someone had to be there hiding in the forest in case anyone got hurt.”

“Did they?”

“No,” Rhawon said, “but it was a close call. Legolas almost got killed.”

“And you never told me!?” Sulrochil turned her head with a swift swing of her braids and fixed her eyes on her cousin.

“You were so distraught after the war you would not have been interested in the slightest. And after you became a Marchwarden Pair with him, you have never been with me long enough that I had time for telling you ancient stories.”

“Well, what happened to him, then?”

“An orc arrow almost hit his back, but Tauriel managed to shoot in time to knock the arrow out the way.”

“I have heard she is quite an archer,” Sulrochil said, trying to picture the brilliance of the shot in her mind and flexing her fingers to try to feel if she could make a shot like that.

“Everyone has heard it,” Rhawon said, “but you have never seen her shoot?”

“No,” Sulrochil said, “She was not my Captain when I was in the -” Sulrochil’s posture faltered and she could not utter the last word of her sentence. All her memories from her time serving as a soldier rushed over her. The images of the gruesome ending of The Battle of the Five Armies flickered in her mind. “...I lost them all, Rhawon. All of them! But I should not think of that right now… Please, not this again...” Sulrochil shook her head a bit, lifted her eyes at the sky and inhaled deeply, until slowly turned back to look at Rhawon again. “If it is not Legolas waiting for me over there, who is it then?”

“A messenger from King Thranduil,” Rhawon said and turned to look at his cousin who stopped walking and collapsed on the ground on her knees.

“Legolas must be dead then,” she whispered and placed her face in her hands.

“Sulrochil, get up!” Rhawon pulled her up and cupped her face between his hands. “Think, Sulrochil, think! If something had happened to Legolas it would not be the King to inform you, but Chief Marchwarden Filvendor. It is your leader who would inform you if anything happened to your Marchwarden partner. Trust me, this is something else.”

“I am…” Sulrochil mumbled, gripping Rhawon’s upper arms by her palms, “I am not thinking properly.”

“You never are,” Rhawon said brushing a few spruce needles off her shoulders, “but do not worry about that now. The messenger is waiting for you.”

“What is the message?”

“Do you think I would dare to even think about asking that of a messenger of the King? He demanded to see you and I was needed only to find you. When you sit up in a tree, who could ever find you?”

“And a moment ago you blamed me for not using my skill.”

“You use only a small fraction of your skill. You should learn to move in your hiding mode, but -”

“But we do not have time to argue this all over again. The messenger remember?” Sulrochil straightened her spine, set her jaw and began striding towards Rhawon’s house with long steps - long for her, that is.

“The messenger. Right.” Rhawon said, amazed by her sudden change of the mood and followed after her. “When you get married I shall feel truly sorry for your husband when he has to feel your mood swings.”

“I shall never get married! You know that.”

“I know, I know: ‘I will never marry, I will not!! Never in million years I shall marry anyone!!!’ All your life you have chanted that but someday you might change your mind.”

“I shall never change my mind! There is no need for marriage, when you can not have children and you know it.”

“Marriage is much more than that and you know it.”

“But I have decided I will never marry, and that will not change. Never. And besides, how would I ever even have a chance to meet anyone when I am using all my time Marchwardening?”

“Marchwardening with Legolas,” Rhawon said lifting his eyebrows, “And since you two received your Wardens’ Bond, you have spent all your free time being together - in addition to being together during your Marchwarden duties.”

“We use our free time to train ourselves to be better in what we do.”

“Of course you do,” he said, lifting his hands up, “And from what I have seen you have become very good in what you do.”

“What you are trying to imply, Rhawon?” Sulrochil said.

“Nothing,” he replied, “Nothing at all, and besides the messenger is waiting for you, so hurry up.”

There was indeed a messenger standing by his horse near the house. When he saw the two approaching elves he stepped forward and bowed for them.

“Sulrochil, Marchwarden of Mirkwood, I have a message for you from our King Thranduil. He orders you to go and meet him at The Halls of Thranduil at once. He has a task for you.”

“A task?” Sulrochil asked furrowing her brows. “What kind of task?”

“I have no knowledge of that,” the messenger said, “Will you find the way on your own or do you wish for me to escort you there?”

“Thank you for your offer,” Sulrochil said, “but I should be able to find it, even though I have never visited the place.”

“Good day, Sulrochil, Rhawon,” the messenger said, bowing. Then mounted his horse and rode away.

She had no other choice but to leave, riding quickly towards The Halls of Thranduil. She rode without a saddle, her brown hair flowing behind her, wound into a complicated arrangement of braids that kept the hair out of her face. She wore her Marchwarden uniform and her weapons bounced on her back as she tried to guess why the King would want to see her.

Sulrochil rode along a small bridge over the Forest River and stopped her chestnut mare before the Great Gates. Never before had she been in this place and it looked ominous to her eyes. She jumped onto the ground and her head was almost level with the withers of her horse. Cautiously she left the horse with a guard, who took Baraniel further. Another guard led Sulrochil through the gates surrounded by high pillars. 

Inside yet another guard asked her to leave all her weapons in the hall and she put her bow, quiver, and knife on the table meant for them. She did not have time to even begin reaching for her dagger in her boot, when she heard an order:

“Also your dagger, please.”

“How do you know I have one?” Sulrochil exclaimed, turning to look at the guard.

“Your dagger,” the guard said, throwing a glance at Sulrochil’s left boot.

Sulrochil had no choice but to put the dagger with the other weapons, still wondering how they knew she had it. Did they know everything?

Three tall, stern-looking guards came forward and ordered Sulrochil to follow them. When she turned to walk after them she saw a few spruce needles fallen on the floor. She had no time to pick them up before the guards began leading her out of the hall through the tunnels. When she entered the King’s Hall, a herald standing by the door announced: “Sulrochil, Marchwarden of Mirkwood”.

The King was standing in his full ceremonial attire in the middle of the hall, meticulously eyeing the minuscule lady who stepped closer to him and bowed to her King.

“Your accomplishments were admirable last week in the Battle of Mirkwood, Marchwarden Sulrochil, daughter of Belegsul,” the King said.

“Thank you, Lord Thranduil, my King.” Sulrochil bowed again, feeling nervous under the scrutinizing gaze of the King and thinking she could not possibly have been ordered here only to receive his gratitude for her achievements. 

“You are wondering why you have been summoned here,” the King said and took a few steps closer to Sulrochil. His gaze made her almost diminish between the cracks on the floor tiles. “I need you for an assignment as my messenger.”

“But -” she began.

“I need,” the King interrupted her, “someone who is a fast rider, able to defend herself, - and is someone trusted.”

“My Lord, you do not know me. How can you trust me?” 

“I do not know you, but Legolas does,” he paused, acutely studying Sulrochil’s reaction. “I am afraid I have to rely on his judgment on this matter, for there are not many passable candidates available for this assignment.”

Sulrochil did not dare say anything. It was the truth, naturally. Legolas did trust her, but the King did not need her assurance for something he clearly knew himself.

“When Legolas left for his mission six months ago something led me to believe he had grown very fond of you,” the King said slowly.

“Legolas cares deeply about every warrior with whom he fights,” Sulrochil replied looking directly at the King, “I am no exception to that.”

“Perhaps it was once only that. Now I am not so sure.”

“We form a Marchwarden Pair in the Marchwardens of Mirkwood, my Lord. There is nothing more between us than comradeship.”

“I see,” the King said taking again a few steps closer to Sulrochil. Being more than a foot taller than her, he seemed to loom above her. “As you know, the population of Mirkwood has been decreasing for centuries and the last war again took too many. The best messengers are already on their assignments, so I must settle for substitutes.” 

“I might be willing to take the offered assignment, my Lord, but I must ask Chief Marchwarden Filvendor if I can -”

“There is no need for that. Your patrol partner is away -”

“But he could be back at any moment!” Sulrochil snapped and was horrified she had dared to interrupt the King.

“I admire your loyalty, but Legolas is not coming back,” King Thranduil said his eyes fixed on Sulrochil, whose expression faltered for a brief moment and her shoulders hunched slightly. “At least not anytime soon.”

“Lord Thranduil, my King,” Sulrochil said. She set her jaw and straightened her posture again looking directly into the eyes of the King, “then I am willing to take your assignment.”

“Good,” he said gazing at her intensely while he continued. “I want you to ride to Minas Tirith to give Legolas his crown and ceremonial robe. The Prince of Mirkwood is not going to show up in the coronation of the King of Gondor in borrowed garments.” 

Sulrochil tried to not show her surprise, but failed. Her eyes lit up for the briefest moment, until she resumed her solemnity again.

“Limdur,” the King only said and a tall elf with long brown hair came into the hall through a back door.

“My Lord,” Limdur said, bowing to the King.

“Give Sulrochil the details of her assignment.” The King waved his hand indifferently and turned away.

“Come with me,” Limdur said to Sulrochil and walked back to the room behind the hall.  
Sulrochil followed him and saw a dark wooden desk in the middle of the room and on every single wall was stacked with neat rows of books and thick files. Five bright oil lamps burned on the ceiling, giving light to the room without windows. Limdur sat behind the desk and gestured to the other chair for Sulrochil, who sat down. 

There were three items on the desk: two large packages and one small silvery piece of jewelry.

“Here is your messenger badge,” Limdur said pushing the small item on the table closer to Sulrochil. She took it and saw it was a pin with a decorative letter Th on it.

“You are not to show it to anybody unless you have to appear as a messenger of King Thranduil. If everything goes well, you will not need it until you arrive in Minas Tirith. By showing this badge, you can obtain accommodation and food. Then you will deliver this to Prince Legolas.” He pushed one of the large packages closer to Sulrochil. “Any questions?”

“Do I take also that?” she pointed to the other package on the desk.

“No. That one is waiting for another messenger.” Limdur lifted the package to the shelf. 

“What if Legolas is not in Minas Tirith?” Sulrochil asked when Limdur had sat in front of her again.

“He shall be there. He is waiting for the coronation of The King of Gondor as ordered.”

“How do you know there will be the coronation? Has the Ring really been destroyed?”

“We have our ways of knowing,” Limdur said. “You will take your own horse, I assume.”

“Aye, she is fast.”

“That package contains one of the most valuable items in this kingdom. Do not lose it.”

“I will not.” Sulrochil took the package, rose up and began to leave.

“One more thing,” Limdur said, “As a messenger of the King, you are to attend to the coronation as a member of the Mirkwood Embassy, which means you will need a dress. I will escort you to the seamstress.”

Limdur rose also and, smiling for the first time when he saw Sulrochil’s horrified face. “Is there a problem here?”

“Aye, there is” she replied. “I climb trees. I shoot arrows. I hide in the bushes, I am not used to wearing dresses. I ride horses and carry packages to wretched princes… Oh, I am not supposed to say that…”

“No, you are not. But now to the seamstress.”

“Aye. Anything for the honour of Mirkwood,” Sulrochil said lamely and followed Limdur.

Limdur smiled inwardly. All the information they had gathered about this lady during the past years, did not really tell anything at all about her. And the interrupting the King… Well, of course there had been people who had interrupted him before, but the King’s reaction ... Or the lack thereof, made Limdur wonder while he led the lady along long dark corridors towards the workshop of the Royal Seamstress.

The seamstress was a lovely elf lady who ushered Limdur away at once and pulled Sulrochil by her arm into the workshop.

“Pleased to meet you Sulrochil, I am Bereneth,” the seamstress gently rotated Sulrochil around to make preliminary measurements using only her eyes, before grabbing her measuring tape. “Take off your jerkin and bracers, please. You shall have a silvery dress. I have the perfect fabric for it. And I know just the right style for your dress.” Bereneth began pulling the tape around Sulrochil and mumbling the measures aloud for her secretary to write down.

Sulrochil could only comply and let the seamstress pull the tape around her in all directions.

“You are smaller than I believed,” Bereneth said, taking the measures of her arms.

“How…?” Sulrochil lifted her eyes questioningly to the seamstress.

“I have heard everything about you from Filvendor.” She measured Sulrochil’s left thigh.

“Filvendor?”

“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor to you, my dear.”

“But why? How? He is not supposed to tell about Marchwardens to anyone.”

“Of course, not to anyone, but how he could keep any secrets from his wife?” Bereneth pulled the tape around Sulrochil’s head.

“Why are you measuring my head?” Sulrochil asked, not bothering to reply to Bereneth’s self-evident question. She tried to turn her head, but the seamstress held it so tightly she could not move. “Do the coronation regulations require I wear a bonnet as well?”

“Of course not,” Bereneth smiled, “but I am thorough. When I take measures, I take them all. Now that is all. You can get the dress at dawn by the gate of the castle and then you can leave for your journey at once.”

“There is no need for fitting the dress?”

“I know how to sew, my dear.”

Sulrochil rode slowly back to Rhawon’s place with the package in front of her, planning her assignment and deciding which route would be the best. She made a few necessary preparations and sat a long time on a spruce branch trying to get a grasp of everything.

At dawn she fetched her dress and began the long ride towards Minas Tirith.


	2. The Reunion

In Minas Tirith, Legolas stood in a dining hall by a window, deep in thought. The hall was full of people eating and drinking and there was much jolly noise. Cheerful talking and laughing filled the room. A raggedy peddler walked in, swaying under his armload of too many sacks. He collapsed on a bench, some of his worn-out sacks flowing onto the floor while he managed to pull colourful cloths out of one and began wheeling out his marketing speech for the merchandise. No one was listening.  
   
The candles had been lit and there was a fire in every fireplace, making the atmosphere quite cozy, but the mood did not reach the heart of the elf.  
   
The One Ring had been destroyed a month ago, but the hellish fires in Mordor still made the night sky flicker in the shades of red and orange. He was watching the silhouettes of a small flock of common cranes dotting the sky as they flew when Legolas felt a pat on his shoulder.  
“Hey, laddie,” Gimli said, “why’re you brooding here alone?”  
   
Legolas turned to find Gimli carrying two pints of ale in one hand and a bowl of steaming stew in the other. The angle which he had to look down at the dwarf was painfully similar to the angle he used to look at… No, it would not do to let this train of thought finish.  
   
“Do you know Gimli,” Legolas said, “if I could fly with those cranes, I could be at home in two days.”  
   
“And miss all the fun of the coronation?”  
   
“Aye.”  
   
“So, who’s waiting for you at home?” Gimli asked.  
   
“No one,” Legolas replied, turning to look at the sky again only to find the cranes had flown out of sight.  
   
“By the look on your face a moment ago I’d say there has to be someone.”  
   
“There is nobody.” Legolas crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the dwarf.  
   
“Alright, alright, no need to get mad at me,” Gimli said and sat down at the table with the pints and his food and began eating. “But why the rush?”  
   
“I only wish to get back to my usual life,” the elf replied and sat in front of Gimli. Taking one of the ales for himself, he took a long sip. “When I came to Rivendell, I had no idea I would be here half a year.”  
   
“Aye,” Gimli sighed and licked some grease off his beard. “I know what you mean, I miss home too. My wife’s roasted pork. Mmmm…”  
   
“It is not food I am longing for. I just wish to resume my post at the Marchwardens.”  
   
“Marchwardens, huh? Sneaking around in the woods and scaring people?”  
   
“Aye. Something like that.”  
   
“Wait a moment,” Gimli said, “you aren’t leading the army with your father?”  
   
“No. I quit sixty years ago, I wanted to do something else for while. I went north, met Aragorn, and lived with him and the Dunedain for many years.”  
   
“Yeah, you said that you’d met with him years ago. But when did you join the Creep-around-in-the-bushes folk?” Gimli asked, spooning his stew.  
   
“About thirty years ago, and I have not regretted a single day,” Legolas said smiling.  
   
“So, it must be fun to prowl about the woods?”  
   
“Aye, it is. Mainly we just scout in the forest and if we find something of interest we act accordingly.”  
   
“Draw your bow against their heads?”  
   
“Sometimes there is a need for that indeed, but often it is something else. My partner is excellent at hiding and she - ”  
   
“She? Your partner is a lady? And you never told me about her?”  
   
“There is nothing to tell. We are Marchwarden partners.”  
   
“Of course,” Gimli said, dropping his spoon back into the empty bowl. “Does she have a name?”  
   
“Sulrochil,” Legolas said and could not help smiling.  
   
“Oh, you’re smitten,” the dwarf said, taking his ale.  
   
“I am not. What makes you believe that?”  
   
“No Marchwarden partner ever could put that grin on your face.” Gimli lifted his mug into a brief gesture of a toast.  
   
“There is nothing between us. We are friends, and that is all.”  
   
Gimli took a sip from his ale and Legolas continued:  
“And she is better shot than me.”  
   
It made Gimli almost choke on his ale. “What?”  
   
“Is there a problem with your ears, Gimli?”  
   
“My ears are just fine. No pointy tips on them, you know. But you can’t mean she could be better bowman than you.”  
   
“Why? You have not seen her shoot. She is a lot faster than me, and also more accurate, but I will never tell her I said that. In field battle she is not that strong, though. She is as tiny as a mosquito and - ” Legolas froze and lifted his head.  
   
For Gimli it seemed the elf was trying to hear something. “What it is lad?”  
   
“No, it can not be,” Legolas said and his eyes darted rapidly in different directions. “This must only be my imagination. She can not be here.”  
   
“What do you mean she can’t be here? Where?” Gimli looked at the same direction as the elf, but saw nobody.  
   
“Not in this room, Gimli. Out there.” Legolas gestured toward the window. “I share a Wardens’ Bond with Sulrochil - ”  
   
“A bond? But you said there isn’t anything between you two, so you can’t be married.”  
   
“No, we are not married and not bound in that way,” Legolas grinned even at the thought of that. “We do share a Wardens’ Bond which is completely different than the Bond of Love.”  
   
“I’ve heard about the bond of the marriage kind, but never about this other.”  
   
“Wardens’ Bonds can develop during years of working as Marchwarden partners,” Legolas explained. “It does not happen to every pair, but when it happens it gives them a great tactical tool. We can determine each other’s location within a half a mile and I know if she is moving or staying still. It helps enormously in scouting and patrolling. But I want to emphasize the fact that we do not feel each other’s emotions like married couples do, but only - ”  
   
“What?” Gimli was baffled. “You can’t mean married people would feel the feelings of the other?”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“Even the pointy-ears can’t be that strange? Feeling what my wife does? Awful. How’s it possible?”  
   
“There is a simple ceremony which the two elves in love perform in order to receive the Bond of Love and then it just happens. They become bound to each other eternally and receive the gift of feeling each other’s feelings, but I do not know how it happens.”  
   
“Why has no one told you?”  
   
“It can not be explained because you are supposed to learn this together with the one you love. The elves do not think these kind of things before they love someone, and I do not love anyone.”  
   
“That is strange. You live thousands of years and can not even think about love?”  
   
“I can think about love, but I do not know what it will be truly like. You can care for people. You can be friends and like them, but until the two elves actually love each other, it is not love. And before you love someone you can not appropriately imagine what it will be like.”  
   
“My mind just got twisted,” Gimli said shaking his head in disbelief. “So, what kind of strangeness is the bond you share?”  
   
“The Wardens’ Bond,” Legolas said. “We simply sense the location of the other. If she is within the range, I know where she is and if she is moving or not. Right now I am sensing her in the area but she should be nowhere near us. This is quite confusing. It has to be only a memory of her.”  
   
“Why she couldn’t be here?” Gimli asked.  
   
“Because she should be safe in Mirkwood and not here at the other end of the world.”  
   
“I thought she could defend herself?”  
   
“Of course she can,” Legolas turned his head trying to get a grasp on what he believed to be sensing. “There was our “not in danger” signal again. Am I only imagining this?”  
   
“You could go and see if she is really there?” Gimli said.  
   
“No,” Legolas relaxed a bit and leaned his elbows on the table sipping his ale. “If she is here, let her find me.”  
   
Sulrochil was here, that was certain, as Legolas could not imagine sensing her presence that long. He had thought about Sulrochil on his quest through Middle Earth. If he was honest to himself, he had thought about her a lot, but not even once had he believed he had sensed her. So, she must be here. But why? Legolas was waiting for the King’s messenger bring him his crown and other needed things for the coronation of Aragorn, but why would his father choose Sulrochil to do it? That did not make sense at all, because his father had not ever met her and there were numerous people who he could have ordered to do the task. Still, it was the best plausible explanation for her sudden arrival. Better to not guess, but to wait for her.  
   
“I really don’t understand this feeling thing. You elves are so weird. How do you feel her?” Gimli asked.  
   
“Not feel, sense. Wardens’ Bond means our minds are connected, not souls like in the Bond of Love,” Legolas replied.  
   
“How do you feel it? The connection, I mean,” Gimli asked, genuinely curious.  
   
“It is hard to explain, but I always describe it is like when you extend your arm and close your eyes. You do not see your hand but you know where it is.”  
   
Gimli tried that naturally at once; straightening his arm and closing his eyes.  
   
“You look like a fool,” Legolas grinned.  
   
“Well, what’s she doing right now.” Gimli lowered his arm and took his ale.  
   
“I sensed her coming fast towards Minas Tirith, most probably riding. Right now she is staying still, I guess she is tending her horse. So if I am still sane and not completely imagining things, she should come here soon.”  
   
“Now that’s something I won’t want to miss! Let’s see what kind of smile you get when she actually comes here.”  
   
“Most likely she came all this way from Mirkwood only to lecture me about something which is supposed to be my fault.” Legolas drank the last of his ale, put the mug on the table, and leaned on the wall behind him. He tried not to smile when he admitted to himself he had been waiting anxiously to get back home soon and see Sulrochil again. And now she was here.  
   
*  
   
Through the plains towards Minas Tirith indeed rode an elf lady with a package for the Prince of Mirkwood. When Sulrochil had ridden through the huge forests of Ithilien, the trees had hummed crisp songs about spring and it had been too easy to forget the purpose of her journey. The linden trees had gladly informed her that there had been another wood-elf walking in these woods a few days ago. Legolas was, of course, only a half wood-elf because his father was not one himself, but the trees made no difference about it and neither did Sulrochil. So, he had been here in this forest, Sulrochil contemplated.  
   
Also Gandalf would be there in Gondor and the warm thoughts of the dear wizard filled her mind. Her last encounter with Mithrandir had happened many months ago. She had been patrolling with Legolas at the southern borders of Mirkwood and they had sat on a tree branch, listening to Gandalf as he approached them. There were no other people for miles - neither friends nor foes - and therefore, after a quick glance at each other, they had dared to jump onto the ground before the wizard when he had been just below them.  
   
“You miserable tree hugging elves! Do you not have more important business to attend than to scare poor old wizards?” Gandalf pierced them both with his gaze and continued more calmly with a twinkle in his eye. “You two fools were exactly the ones I was looking for. I have not had a proper rest for weeks and you can make yourselves useful keeping watch while I sleep.”  
   
Gandalf had slept peacefully for the night while the two of them guarded him.  
   
All the way from Mirkwood to Gondor Sulrochil had asked Baraniel to run fast, resting only when necessary and they both felt exhilarated by their ride. Now she had arrived in Minas Tirith again, after many centuries. She turned to look at the magnificent white walls and many layers of the city. It was beautiful and when she got closer to the city she felt a familiar tug in her mind.  
   
Legolas.  
   
So he really was in the city.  
   
Sulrochil rode slowly, counting to five and stopped her horse. She kept her horse still, again counting to five, and continued riding. It was their signal meaning “I am in the area and not in danger”. She was sure he had also sensed her, but because he did not expect her presence, he would wonder what she was doing there. She decided to repeat the signal after some time.  
   
She had been beyond furious to learn Legolas had to leave on some kind of secret mission due to the King’s order half a year ago. He had been not allowed to say anything to Sulrochil and he had only guessed the mission would take a couple of weeks. Sulrochil was sure Legolas had not really known how long it would last. But, if he had known he could be many months away, but had not allowed to tell her, he would not have said anything. “I believe I owe him an apology when I meet him again.” Sulrochil smiled fondly to herself. Too many times had she blown up for various reasons to him, and as many times she had pleaded forgiveness. Sometimes she wondered how he could stand her moods, as many times he had forgiven.  
   
Many rumours had gone round in Mirkwood about the Fellowship of the Ring and that Legolas had been chosen into it, but not until the Fellowship had visited Lothlorien did the people in Mirkwood truly know their Prince had been one of the members of the honoured group which had been sent to destroy the One Ring.   
   
And they had succeeded! The joy and pride Sulrochil felt was enormous, even though she had no idea how it had been done. The evil forces had been racketing around too long. Perhaps now there could be peace. But too painfully she felt in her soul there still were evil forces here and there and it would be a long time until a real peace could be achieved. All traces of evilness had to be vanquished from the Middle Earth before the time of the men would begin. There still was much to be done, before all elves could leave Middle Earth.  
   
In Minas Tirith a stableman watched Sulrochil’s arrival, and he debated with himself if the clothing of the elf was green, brown or grey. Every piece of clothing was some kind of muted earth color. If you looked closely at the clothes you could see she had a strange sleeveless coat. On her arms there was showed the sleeves of her grayish brown shirt and the bracers on her wrists were also some kind of brownish green. Or was it greenish gray? Her trousers and boots had a same effect. It was impossible to determine the colour of her clothing. When she happened to be in front of a juniper growing near the stables, she seemed to merge into it.  
   
Sulrochil showed her messenger badge to the stableman and at once he bowed to her and diligently showed a place in the stables. She was given a stall and the stableman offered to tend her horse, but she wanted to do it herself and began brushing her horse. Tending Baraniel gave her the calming feeling she needed and also the horse relaxed now they finally had reached their destination.  
   
So now Sulrochil was really in Minas Tirith with the package for Legolas. She was not used to carrying things in her hands. Usually she traveled only with things she could attach onto herself, or tuck into her pockets. Now the package in her hands seemed so unnatural, like it would bite her if she held it too long, and she decided to find Legolas at once. She put the pin on her chest and climbed myriads of staircases upwards towards the spot where he would be.  
   
Legolas sensed Sulrochil had begun to move towards him, and he said. “Sulrochil is coming. At least I hope it is her and not my imagination. Please, let her talk first, because I really can not say in what mood she is.”  
   
“Don’t worry, laddie,” Gimli said, “When you begin to babble in that impossible language of yours I will not understand a word of it.”  
   
“Perhaps not the words, but her tones are quite understandable.”  
   
Legolas blinked when he saw Sulrochil walking into the dining hall. She was pacing directly towards him with a package in her hands. At once he noticed the pin on her chest. His father really had chosen her to be his messenger. She looked much like Legolas remembered her when they had last seen each other over six months ago. Something seemed different but Legolas could not exactly say what it was. Her clothing and weaponry were the same as before, so it was nothing exterior. It was something other than her odd expression. Her whole demeanour was serious and her eyes seemed like she was a stranger to him.  
   
So, she wanted to play. Let us play, he thought.  
   
“My Lord Legolas,” Sulrochil bowed in front of the Prince and handed the package towards him. “I bring this package for you from the Lord Thranduil, our King.”  
   
Legolas rose up, took the package, and spoke as cordially as she had. “Thank you Sulrochil, messenger of our King Thranduil.” Legolas glanced at the package and turned to glare at Sulrochil. His eyes were hard as rock and his voice seemed to chill the room. “You are late. The coronation of the King of Gondor will take place the day after tomorrow and I have been waiting for your arrival. What took you so long?”  
   
“Please forgive me, My Lord,” Sulrochil bowed again. “I came as quickly as I could after I got my assignment from the King. I can not know the reason our Highly Esteemed King would send anyone for this journey so late. I can only guess the reason was the Battle of Mirkwood, when the orcs attacked - ”  
   
“There has been a war in Mirkwood?” Legolas put the package on the table.  
   
“Aye, everybody available was asked to join the army and also I joined temporarily - ”  
   
“You were in the war?” The act was over. Legolas’ voice suddenly became much softer and his eyes were full of concern when he scanned her thoroughly, searching for any kind of distress. He lifted his arm a fraction, but lowered it. “Are you alright, Sulrochil?”  
   
“I am fine,” Sulrochil smiled lifting her eyes so she could look directly at his eyes, for he was a head taller.  “It was the same war you fought. The same war, a different battle. And you? How was saving the world?”  
   
“It was not me who did it,” Legolas smiled and switched into the Common Tongue. “Sulrochil, may I introduce you to Gimli, the greatest dwarf that has ever lived in this world. And Gimli, this is Sulrochil, my Marchwarden partner who today seems to appear as the messenger of the King.”  
   
Gimli had been watching the two elves, flabbergasted, as their meeting did not seem at all what he had believed it would be when Legolas had talked about Sulrochil. When the lady had walked in the room it had felt she had been surrounded by the sharp edges of a saw blade and the rigid line divided the elves in two opposite leagues. Only when they ceased pretending and the look on the lad’s face changed altogether had he known they had done it all for the show. The edges melted and slowly the air around the lady was filled with a spirit of the forest, shimmering in the last rays of the sun in the evening.  
   
“Nice to meet you, Sulrochil,” Gimli said blinking in the sudden change of the atmosphere, “When I can see you shoot? The lad said you are faster than him.”  
   
“Pleased to meet you too, Master Dwarf,” Sulrochil said bowing to Gimli. “Of course I am faster than Legolas, for he is only average. I can show you real elven archery tomorrow, now would be too dark for your eyes to see it.” Sulrochil smiled sweetly at the dwarf. “In fact I will challenge Legolas to a competition tomorrow.”  
   
Gimli looked to Legolas, who only shrugged indifferently but had no time to say anything. They all saw Gandalf arriving in the dining hall with billowing white robes, striding towards the three of them.  
   
“Mithrandir,” Sulrochil exclaimed, “I am so relieved you are not lost as we had been led to believe! There was much sorrow in the whole Mirkwood for a time, but now I can be joyous again to see you.” She embraced the wizard and almost drowned in his beard.  
   
“I sensed your Wardens’ Bond, and came to see what you could possibly be doing in Minas Tirith,” Gandalf withdrew from the hug smiling and looked at the pin on Sulrochil’s chest. “Well, now, if it is not the messenger of the King Thranduil.”  
   
“Aye, I am the messenger today,” Sulrochil said and turned to look at the ceiling, trying to mimic the King. “‘The Prince of Mirkwood is not going to be prancing around in hand-me-downs at the coronation of the King of Gondor.’”  
   
“And he wanted you to bring the crown for Legolas?” Gandalf said quite thoughtfully.  
   
“Well, he claimed all the better options were either dead or on other assignments, so he had to use me as the substitute.”  
   
“I see,” Gandalf replied. “Now are you going to eat something?”  
   
“I suppose I could eat something while you all tell me about your quest.”  
   
“Now that is something I want to see,” Legolas said to Sulrochil, both smiling fondly. “You eating as long as the story goes on.”  
   
“Could you bring food also for me, Sulrochil?” Gandalf said and sat down to the table with the others.  
   
Sulrochil fetched two bowls of stew and while the wizard ate and the elf lady played absently with her stew, Gimli and Legolas told the story in turns. It involved many tales about who had killed more orcs at which battle, but it was also a heart-wrenchingly aching story of how everything almost shattered many times, but in the end the Ring had been destroyed.  
   
The glances between the elves did not go unnoticed by either the dwarf or the wizard.  
   
“I am tired,” Gandalf said and yawned. “Do you have a room yet, Sulrochil?”  
   
“No, I guess I should go and get one before it is too late,” she replied and stood up.  
   
“I will show you to the guard who can give you one,” Legolas stood up also, took his package and bid everyone goodnight, then they left.  
   
“Now Gandalf,” Gimli began, turning his head slowly towards the wizard, “What did I just see?”  
   
“What do you mean, Gimli?” Gandalf said with mirth, lighting his pipe.  
   
“You’re going to smoke? I thought you were tired.”  
   
“Of course not,” the wizard said, offering the match for the dwarf too. “I only wanted to get those two out of here.”  
   
Gimli also lit his pipe and both puffed a while until Gimli said: “The lad never told about her and we walked together for a half a year.”  
   
“They are Marchwarden partners and nothing more. There was nothing to tell.”  
   
“For me it’s obvious there’s something to tell.”  
   
“Perhaps there is, perhaps there is not,” the wizard pondered. “No one ever knows what two elves actually feel. You could be misguided about this, and you would not be the first one to be wrong when trying to guess what really is going on between elves. No one ever knows, and neither do they themselves know what is going on.”  
   
“What do you mean by that?” Gimli asked, pointing at the wizard with the end of his pipe. “I get the part I don’t know what they feel, but how could they not know themselves?”  
   
“Relationships change extremely slowly for elves. The lifespan of the elves is so long. They have time. What is a year to the elves, or ten years? A hundred years? For a long time they might think they are only friends, but in fact, their relationship could already be changing into something else. But no one else can know what is going on, neither can they. It is always like that for the elves. Please, do not say anything to them about this as it would be considered rude.”  
   
“Rude?” Gimli asked, puffing his pipe.  
   
“Aye, the others are not to comment in any way the development of the relationship of the two elves.”  
   
“Well, I said to the lad, he seems to be smitten.”  
   
“Was that before Sulrochil arrived or after?”  
   
“Before.”  
  
“Then it is alright, but please do not say anything now that you have seen them together. One beautiful day they might find out it is not plain friendship anymore, but until then they should be considered simply as friends. For elves there can be affection from one towards the other but it can never lead to love if it is not mutual. When we see two elves, we can never be sure what they really feel no matter how affectionate they seem. And the sad part is that one of them might even wish for something more, but if it is not mutual, it can never become anything other than friendship.”  
   
“The pointy ears are so strange.”  
  
“You are right. The ways of elves in this matter probably do seem quite odd to the other races. Love is such a sacred thing for the elves that you probably have no idea.”  
   
“They seem so clueless,” Gimli said after a contemplative puff of his pipe.  
   
“If,” Gandalf said, taking a long puff, “and only if they are going through what you believe they are, it would be a completely new experience for them, as it happens only once in their lifetime. If it were to happen, everything would change in their lives. Their whole beings transforming into something thoroughly novel; their bodies, minds and souls trying to settle into the new situation. The transition would be confusing and thus lead to erratic behaviour and uncertainty. Finding equilibrium is never straightforward.”  
   
“Speak Common Tongue, Gandalf,” Gimli huffed.  
   
“Alright, they are clueless,” the wizard said, smiling. “But can you guess why I came here tonight?”  
   
“No,” the dwarf replied.  
   
“I was surprised to sense their Wardens’ Bond, as I did not expect Sulrochil here. I came to see how they are.” Gandalf turned to look at Gimli with a twinkle in his eye. “And I guessed Sulrochil wanted to embrace someone.”  
   
“Who? The lad?”  
   
“No, no, no, of course, not him! Someone, anyone. And I guessed right. I was embraced, wasn’t I?”  
   
“I can’t believe this!”  
   
“That embrace was not the first one I have received from elf ladies during the past centuries…”  
   
“The pointy ears…”  
   
*  
   
The two elves walked to the guard who gave Sulrochil a room. Legolas took a burning candle off one of the holders on the wall and showed the way as they walked through the corridor. The room was quite small and it had a window facing towards the mountains surrounding Mordor. While Sulrochil removed her weapons and hung them on the wall, Legolas lit an oil lamp on the desk and heard Sulrochil say:  
“Could you open the package and give my dress and other things to me?”  
   
“Your dress?” he said lifting the package and looking at it like he could see through the cover.  
   
“Aye, I put my dress and all the nonsensical stuff needed for the coronation to the same package so I did not have to bring many items. That one extra was almost too much,“ Sulrochil said, trying to guess if he wanted to stay for a while because he had not left at once when they had found the room. The whole situation was strange. During their duties and practising, they had to be together, but tonight it was not required. If he stayed, it was because he wanted to do it.  
   
“I see. Your orders naturally include attending to the coronation as a member of the Mirkwood Embassy,” Legolas smirked opening the package and not giving any indication of hurrying. “You must enjoy it immensely.”  
   
“Of course I will enjoy it. Wearing a dress at a huge ceremony is like a dream come true for me,” Sulrochil sighed and studied the room. Besides the desk was only one chair and there was no other place to sit on except the bed, but that would not do.  
   
“Thank you for bringing me this,” Legolas said looking at his crown and handed Sulrochil a folded smaller package tied up with a brown ribbon.  
   
“There is also a letter from the King to Mithrandir,” Sulrochil said, “but you have to deliver it to him, because I guess I was not supposed to open your package.”  
   
“And Gandalf knows,” Legolas said, “those kind of rules never mattered to you.”  
  
“They matter to you,” she replied keeping her eyes fixed on the wall.  
   
“Thank you,” he said glancing at the door.  
   
“Before you go,” Sulrochil said, “could you explain one thing for me?”  
   
“Of course,” Legolas said turning to look back at her.  
   
“I do not understand,” Sulrochil began and sat on the floor with her package in her hands, “how the King knew about the destroying of the Ring and that there will be a coronation coming up. The Advisor only said they have their ways.” She leaned back against the wall.  
   
“I am probably not supposed to say this,” Legolas also sat down to the floor next to her, “but I guess it was Galadriel who learned the information about it and they brought the information to Mirkwood also.”  
  
“I see,” Sulrochil said, feeling small with him sitting next to her. “After you had visited Lothlorien with the Fellowship many months ago, somebody brought the information to Mirkwood and then I heard you had been chosen for the fellowship. Well, I must say… could you please forgive me everything I said to you back in Mirkwood when you told me you must leave on this secret mission of yours and you were not allowed to say anything to me. I said things I should not have said to you.”  
  
“You are forgiven,” Legolas said turning to smile at Sulrochil. “I would have been furious too if I had been in your place. Trust me, I wanted to tell you why I had to leave.”  
   
“I know, I just feel bad I always lose my temper,” she said, trying to decide if he had leaned a bit closer to her or if it was only her imagination.  
   
“I know,” Legolas said resignedly, taking his crown out of the package and hanging it on his right forefinger in front of him. “But this time you actually had a proper reason, so, please, do not worry about it anymore.”  
   
“You mean there is not a proper reason always?” she grinned.  
   
“Do not misunderstand me. Of course, you have a proper reason every time,” he said, idly spinning the crown with his finger.  
   
“Naturally.” Sulrochil lifted her jaw proudly, watching the movements of the crown.  
   
“It is just not always clear for me what the reason is,” Legolas said and suddenly threw the crown to Sulrochil.  
   
“You lack basic understanding skills then,” Sulrochil replied and threw the crown back to him.  
   
“What I lack is an ability to read your mind,” he sighed.  
   
“You should learn, if you think that would help you,” she said, turning her head so she could see him properly.  
   
“How nice to have you back,” Legolas smiled and lowered the crown to his lap. “It was so boring without your incessant arguing.”  
   
For a while they just looked at each other, contented to be together, until Legolas broke the silence:  
“When I said I would be gone only a couple of weeks, I really did believe that.”  
   
“I knew you were not lying to me.”  
  
“My orders when I left Mirkwood were to go to Rivendell to inform the elves there about the escape of Gollum. I had no idea I would be chosen to the fellowship.”  
   
“Of course, they wanted you. You are the best.”  
   
“Many times I missed you,” Legolas said contemplatively, but continued quickly, “I do not know anything you have been up to these past months. Except for fighting in the war of course.”  
   
“I joined the army because there was an order that anyone who can fight must join.”  
   
“What kind of a corps were you assigned to?”  
   
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor collected a small unit of former Marchwardens who had had to quit because their partner had quit for some reason. I fought with them and I was asked to do what I can do best which is - ”  
   
“Hide and shoot orcs,” Legolas said and turned to look at Sulrochil. “How did it affect you?”  
   
“I was ordered to kill certain orc leaders and that meant I mostly ran through the woods and tried to find the best spot where I could hide, shoot them, and sneak away afterwards. I had to kill only three.”  
   
“Only?”  
   
“I meant - ”  
   
“I know what you meant, but trying to find a hiding spot to kill one orc leader is difficult and you took three of them?”  
   
“Hiding is easy. Waiting for the best moment, when no one sees it, is harder, but the hardest part is always staying in the hiding spot waiting for the attacking orcs run past me.”  
   
“And they always run past you.”  
   
“Aye.”  
   
“But staying in the hiding spot is not the hardest part for you. It is always the killing,” Legolas said.  
   
“I am ashamed that the killing still affects me in that way,” Sulrochil said, lifting her knees up and resting her head on them. “I used to be a good soldier back then.”  
   
“Please, do not blame yourself,” Legolas said and looked at the curve of her back, trying to recall if he ever had seen her like that. “What you had to endure back in the Battle of the Five Armies was something so horrible and unimaginable.”  
   
“Aye, but why it was only me who survived of my group?” Sulrochil turned her head a bit so she could see him with out of the corner of her eye.  
   
“I do not know the reason for that,” Legolas whispered and turned his head at the same angle as hers to meet her frightened gaze.  
   
“Me neither,” Sulrochil said hiding her face again. “I can deal with the killing much better nowadays, but it affects my soul all the time. It wrenches me every time violently and twists my heart. I guess that is why Chief assigned me to the hide and seek game in the battle.”  
   
“No. That was not the reason, and you know it. The reason was nobody else could do what you did.”  
   
“Perhaps,” she replied lifting her head and inhaling deeply.  
   
“Are you really alright, Sulrochil?” Legolas said gently, looking at Sulrochil’s eyes. Sulrochil was not sure if there ever had been so much fondness in his eyes.  
   
“I am now,” she whispered and after a small while continued in a brighter tone, “Before the battle I lived at my cousin’s home and occasionally helped him with his studies of the trees and plants. At first I thought I would be bored, but it was quite intriguing actually. I got to climb trees and for a while only enjoy being in the forest and letting the presence of the trees fill my mind. He taught me many interesting things about trees I never had considered. And then after the battle I was summoned to the King and the rest of it you know.”  
   
“But why did he choose you to be his messenger?” he asked.  
   
“Like I said earlier, the King said all the better options were either dead or doing other assignments and he said he had to ask me because you trust me.”  
   
“Can you tell me exactly what he said?”  
   
“I can not remember the exact words, because I felt so nervous,” Sulrochil said looking at the ceiling. “I had heard rumours his gaze is piercing, but I really had no idea what it would be like until I had to experience it myself.”  
   
“He indeed does that.”  
   
“But he said he needs someone who can ride fast, can defend herself, and I have been in Minas Tirith before so I knew the road here. I really felt there was no one available whom he could trust, so he needed to ask me because you trust me. I was surprised.” She really could not say anything at all about certain questions of the King.  
   
“And then?” Legolas tried to comprehend what really had happened.  
   
“Then he asked his Advisor to tell me the details of my assignment. He gave me the pin and the package and took me to the seamstress in order to get that ghastly dress sewn.”  
   
“And that was all?”  
   
“Just about it. Well, I must have looked horrified after Limdur said I must attend the coronation and he asked what could be so awful.”  
   
“And you said naturally what was on your mind,” Legolas said.  
   
“What else would I have said? It would have been rude to lie to the King’s Advisor.”  
   
“I see,” Legolas said thoughtfully, “I still do not understand everything, but it does not matter. I am glad you came.” He was certain Sulrochil had deliberately left something untold, but he could not question her more if she did not want to reveal it.  
   
“And I am delighted to be here. Are you free to get back to Mirkwood after the coronation?”  
   
“Aye. And I can not wait to get back. There are three other messengers, besides you, in the area and we must travel together. It is the tradition of Mirkwood that the Embassy travels together back home and brings their greetings to the King. We are going to leave for our journey back the next day after the coronation with the Lothlorien Embassy. They also invited us to Lothlorien on our way home, and we have agreed to their invitation. I guess you have nothing against it.”  
   
“No. Visiting Lothlorien sounds excellent and I want to get away from the lands of men as soon as possible.”  
   
“Have the men been causing any trouble?” Legolas asked.  
   
“The usual disgusting ogling, but nothing worse than that,” Sulrochil said shaking her head.  
   
“They should not do it,” he said. “I am sorry you have to endure it.”  
   
The walls seemed to be dancing with all shades of yellow and orange from the far-off fires in Mordor. Both fell into their thoughts. Distant yelling was heard somewhere in the corridor, but the outside world seemed far away. The essence of life concentrated in the room; everything outside, unimportant.  
   
“How do you really feel about this quest you have been through?” Sulrochil asked after a while.  
   
“This whole ordeal has been quite strenuous.” Legolas leaned his head towards the wall.  
   
“It is natural,” she said, “Legolas, if even half of it was true, what you told with Gimli tonight, you must have killed hundreds or perhaps even thousands of enemies. No elf can survive that without effects. And you have been doing this for almost two millennia.”  
   
“It was easy when we were out there. You did what was expected of you.” Legolas inhaled deeply. “But now, after the Ring has been destroyed and I have had free time, it all revolves in my mind.”  
   
“I will listen if you want to tell me about it,” she whispered.  
   
“I know you will.”  
   
Sulrochil waited for a while to see if he wanted to continue, but he did not. She knew there was no way to push him into telling her more. If he ever wanted to tell, she would have to wait. Showing any weakness or any kind of vulnerability on this matter was unacceptable for Legolas, like all male warrior elves. Their hearts were awash with the urge to defend what was important to them and to protect everything and everyone they cared of. To admit killing could have effects on their souls would be unbecoming. She had seen that in her comrades in King Thranduil’s Royal Army for many centuries.  
   
What Legolas had conceded a moment ago was a lot more than Sulrochil had expected. All she could say was:  
“Have you slept at all afterwards?”  
   
“Not much.”  
   
“You should. It is always the best way to take away the worst sting from the pain of what killing does to us.”  
   
“You are right, perhaps I should,” Legolas touched her arm with his knuckles. “You need to rest too.”  
   
“I know.” Sulrochil was amazed by his unexpected touch and lifted her eyes to his, asking the meaning of it.  
   
Legolas stood up and walked to the door, turning to look at Sulrochil. For a while they gazed in each other’s eyes solemnly. Something was different than before. Both saw something had changed in the look of the other’s eyes. Neither understood the meaning of all this.  
   
Sulrochil sat on the floor a long time after Legolas had left and realized she had missed him more than she had believed. And that touch? The smallest touch of the back of his hand on her arm covered with a thick sleeve. They never touched, unless necessary for one reason or another.  
   
If Sulrochil looked at her arm, she almost could still see his hand brushing on it. And not only see, also feel.  
   
It felt like a leaf of a linden falling softly on her arm.  
   
*  
   
Legolas walked to his room with the package in his hands and sat similarly on the floor, leaning his back to the wall and sighing heavily. His left side felt cold when there was no longer another being giving warmth next to him.  
   
There were many things in his mind right now, but the first thing was to try to comprehend the real reason why Sulrochil was in this city. His father did not do anything without a reason and there were two possible explanations for Sulrochil’s sudden appearance in Minas Tirith. The first was the explanation Sulrochil had given. That seemed so far-fetched, Legolas could not believe it at all. Any of the guards at the castle could have brought these items to him. The second, his father had wanted Sulrochil to do it. But why?  
   
The last encounter with his father before he left for Rivendell many months ago had taken place right after Legolas came back from telling Sulrochil he had orders from the King to leave immediately for a mission of which he was not allowed to say a word. Sulrochil had been furious and naturally made Legolas angry too.  
   
“It did not go well, I assume?” Thranduil said, seeing his son storming back home.  
   
“What did you expect?” Legolas huffed. “She was like sunshine when she learned about my going away?”  
   
“She gets free time when you are away.”  
   
“The worst part was not my upcoming departure, but that I could not tell her the reason.”  
   
“That can not be avoided. For you are the Prince of this kingdom.”  
   
“When we are out there prowling in the woods,” Legolas said, “there are no princes nor subordinates. We are equals.”  
   
“And that was the reason you wanted to join the Marchwardens.”  
   
“It was the wisest decision I have ever made. Finally I could be equal with someone, that is a luxury I never had.”  
   
“You are a member of royal family. How could you be equal with anyone?” his father said, “The Mirkwood Embassy will leave tomorrow at dawn, there will be five members including you. Farewell, Legolas.”  
   
Was sending Sulrochil here some kind of an apology on his father’s part? It did not sound likely at all, but it was the best explanation Legolas could figure out with the knowledge he had.  
   
Now that was settled, Legolas could allow his mind wander to more pleasant thoughts. Sulrochil was here, and alone in his room he could let his smile lighten up his whole face. He sensed her location through their Wardens’ Bond. She was approximately thirty yards away. She had not moved after he left her room, so it meant she was still sitting on the floor. And the fact she had sat on the floor in her room in the first place - in essence it had meant she had invited him to sit with her for a while, even though there had been no need for it. She just wanted it, but what for? He could not give any more meaning to the gesture than what it was - a pleasant conversation between two Marchwarden partners after a long separation.  
   
Once in his lifetime he had misunderstood the friendship he had, had wished for more, and been disappointed badly. He would not make the same mistake twice.  
   
But still his final meeting with Sulrochil in Mirkwood spun in his mind. Aye, it had ended in an argument, a ghastly argument, but the look on her face when he had to leave her without giving any reasons had made him almost feel the pain she had felt.  
   
Something had changed in him. There was only one problem, and it was that he did not know at all what she felt.


	3. The Split Arrow

_A flock of vultures soaring in the sky. Their screeches echoing in the distance, otherwise only ominous silence. And the corpses, they are everywhere - the battlefield is an endless sea of dead bodies._  
  
 _They are all dead. Daedhrogon, Rochirion, Celeblasson, Derenil, Rhossolasseth. All dead._  
  
 _No, you can not be dead! Where are you Heledirchon? Where are you!? You can not leave me now!_  
  
 _Everywhere the dead bodies of elves and orcs, scattered weapons, broken dreams. All these wounds, all this blood and the stench making me falter. And I must find you, Heledirchon. Why I am the only one alive? Am I the only one alive in the desert of lifeless bodies?_  
  
 _And I do not want to find you._  
  
 _“Heledirchon?” Sulrochil whispered, collapsing to her knees beside Helediron and grimacing when she saw the black arrow buried deeply in his chest. Too deeply.  (-chon=brother)_  
 _“Sulthel?” Helediron whispered painfully.  (-thel=sister)_  
 _“Heledirchon, you are alive? I will get you to the healer.” Sulrochil said and her eyes lit up for a brief moment until she realized how badly wounded he was._  
 _“I had a vision. Earlier… Before...” His voice was slurred._  
 _“Please, do not go. Tell me about the vision.” She could see Helediron’s soul was slipping away, but she could not admit it to herself._  
 _“You stood on a hill and I could not believe my eyes because you were wearing…”_  
 _“Shh…”_  
 _“You need to live, Sulthel, you must… I had to do it…”_  
  
 _Helediron did not say anything more and Sulrochil saw the exact moment when his soul fled away. His eyes went lifeless and never again would a smile lighten his eyes again. The eyes always so full of life, so full of power - all shine faded away. An arrow sticking out of his chest, all his horrible wounds, and his hair scattered messily around his head._  
 _“Farewell, Heledirchon.”_  
  
Crying uncontrollably, Sulrochil had sat beside Helediron, who had been like a brother to her, holding his hand. The mourning song echoed in her mind. The coldness of his hand - the icy windchill in her soul.   
  
She held her brother’s stiff hand until she woke up and found herself sitting in a strange bed, clutching a pillow that was not her own and recalled the tears from sixty years ago.   
  
Now her eyes were dry, as had been for the last sixty years and slowly she recalled where she was. It was already well past the dawn and she felt ashamed of how long she actually had slept. Sleep took the spike of the crushing pain away every night, but Sulrochil wondered if there ever would become a day when there would be no pain at all in her soul.  
  
The excruciating loss of all her comrades had been like a spear through her heart and the unhealed wound throbbed in her chest, forcing her to escape every night to wipe the worst pain from her soul. And although she could manage to sleep almost anywhere in the wink of an eye, she needed every night. She had to feel safety in her heart to sleep properly.   
  
Last night in her room she had felt safe enough to almost sleep in. If she was honest to herself, it had nothing to do with the huge walls of Minas Tirith and the guards standing watch at the gate of the city. She turned her head slowly to feel the spirit in the air touch her soul. She turned her head to the other side and a weak smile crept on her lips.  
  
Legolas had been in this room, his presence still lingering in there making it safe.  
  
Sulrochil got up and dressed, left all her weapons in the room and went searching. She did not know what she was searching for, because for today she had no orders and no plans.   
  
Then she berated herself for evading the issue. Of course, she was searching for Legolas. For one, he was almost the only person she knew in this city and…  she was doing it again! Even if she knew hundreds of people here, she would still be searching for him.   
  
Sulrochil sensed Legolas was in the dining hall and when she neared the hall, she saw a blond elf lady with a sweet smile coming out of the door saying:  
“I greet you, Sulrochil, I am Gliriel. Legolas asked you to come with the rest of us so he can give us the orders for the coronation tomorrow.”  
“Pleasure meeting you, Gliriel,” Sulrochil replied and followed the other elf. So, now we are getting orders from him, Sulrochil thought. To this day we have been equals. The members of the Marchwarden Pair are always equals, equals from the day one, until the end of their collaboration. And now I am supposed to take orders from him?  
  
Sulrochil and Gliriel sat to the table with the others. There were two male messengers already sitting at the table. After introductions and greetings Sulrochil found out their names were Thannor and Maegorodon and one brief glance between the latter and the other female elf was enough to tell Sulrochil Gliriel and Maegorodon were a married couple. All three of them were smiling politely to Sulrochil. Legolas himself had a long paper scroll in his hand and he began telling about what was required of the Embassy of Mirkwood at the coronation.  
  
It was a long and detailed list of things to be taken into consideration, and while Sulrochil listened carefully, she felt her irritation rising. She could not stand the authoritative tone which Legolas used.  
  
Legolas ended his speech with:  
“That was all for today. We will leave together back to Mirkwood the day after tomorrow at dawn with the Lothlorien Embassy and will stay in Lothlorien for two nights. Any questions?” No one had anything to ask and Legolas stood up. “We will meet tomorrow at this same place after breakfast and go together to the coronation. The meeting is over, thank you everyone.”  
  
All three other messengers rose up, bowed to Legolas, and left immediately. Sulrochil sat at the table biting her lip and did not dare look at Legolas until the others were out of hearing range. Only then did Sulrochil stand up and step in front of him.   
  
“I thought we are equals,” Sulrochil said pursing her lips and furrowing her brows, “Equals, as in planning assignments together, deciding everything together and doing everything together. And suddenly I am supposed to take orders from you? You are half a year gone and forget who I am? Who we are?”  
  
“That list of orders was from the King, not me,” Legolas said calmly, putting the paper in his pocket.  
  
“I figured that much, but it was you who told it all to us.”  
  
“I represent the King here,” Legolas shrugged.  
  
“I will do anything you ask, but I will not take orders from you.” Sulrochil’s voice rose a bit.  
  
“I was not ordering you to do anything,” Legolas said.  
  
“Gliriel said you were giving orders,” she waved in the general direction the others had gone.  
  
“For them,” he also waved his hand to the same direction. “The orders were for them, not for you.”  
  
“It sounded like orders to me,” Sulrochil’s voice was now much more resigned.  
  
“I had to sound like that because that is what they expect from me. I would never give orders to you. I am not fool enough to even try to do it.” Legolas saw her anger melting away and dared to grin at her. “I needed you here so I would not have to repeat all that nonsense for you. So Sulrochil, I ask that you would attend the coronation tomorrow, and not ruin the whole reputation of Mirkwood.”  
  
“Of course I will attend and act decently tomorrow, use proper titles, and bow to you every now and then.”  
  
“You did that rather well yesterday.”  
  
“Naturally, it was only an act. If I had to do it for real, I am not sure how well it would go. Please, forgive me Legolas, I should have trusted you.”  
  
“I forgive you. That was not even bad, I was preparing for a bigger outburst.”  
  
“Aye,” Sulrochil said. “Hitting you like a blizzard.”  
  
“Remember the time you broke that arrow?” he smirked.  
  
“Do you always need to remind me about that? Besides the arrow was beyond repair anyway,” Sulrochil sighed and could not hold her smile back anymore.  
  
*  
  
Last spring they had been patrolling for eight days in a row in the woods east of Mirkwood. On the afternoon of the last day before getting back to the Marchwarden headquarters, they suddenly heard noises of fighting in the distance and ran to investigate their source.  
  
By the sounds echoing in the forest they knew a nearby village of men was under an attack, but in the dense forest they could not see clearly until they were on a hill next to the village. The orcs were rampaging through the village, trying to rob a silo. The men were guarding the silo and all the women and children had fled into the forest. Horses galloped in the distance and the hillside dotted with frightened sheep. Only twelve orcs were to be seen, but after a slight turn of their heads the elves could hear the sounds of at least twenty other orcs behind the buildings.  
  
“I’m going in,” Legolas said, dropping half of his arrows to the ground near Sulrochil.  
  
The evilness of the orcs felt like dark clouds suffocating everything. The wickedness of those vile creatures still chilled her bones after all these centuries fighting against them when she took an arrow from her quiver and shot the first orc whose position was closest to the route she knew Legolas would take.  
  
Before the first body hit the ground she had killed another orc, making way for Legolas. Sulrochil shot more arrows and heard she had managed to kill all orc archers except two standing behind the buildings before Legolas was in the village. She could hear his arrows also flying. Besides the archers, there had to be at least twelve more orcs still alive in the village. The men fought hard, but she could not shut her ears to the dying growls of some unfortunate ones. Swiftly she grabbed the arrows from the ground, tucked them into her quiver and ran closer to the silo to help the men.  
  
“Stay in the forest,” she shouted to a bunch of boys who were trying to peek at what was happening. Six orcs were trying to break into the silo and from around a corner she heard noises of a few orcs and knew Legolas would need no help with them. She ran past the boys and took a position close to one of the houses and began shooting the orcs before they killed the men guarding the silo. One by one the bodies of the orcs fell to the ground, making small thumping sounds until the only thing left was silence. Not even birds were to be heard, every living creature had fled the evilness.   
  
Fortunately the attacking orc group had been small, as they had not anticipated elven interference, and when Legolas came back into her vision, Sulrochil was already crouching over one wounded man.  
  
“Bring the healer,” she yelled. No one moved except Legolas who was walking slowly towards her and turned his head to hear better. No sounds of the enemy. There was only one arrow in his quiver left. Always one arrow, always the last remaining arrow stayed, like it had been glued into his quiver. Sulrochil wondered if she ever would see the day when he would shoot all his arrows in a battle.   
  
“Do as she says,” Legolas said to the nearest man who held a bloody wood axe in his hand and swiped messy tangles of hair out of his forehead with the other. “The village is safe.”  
  
“This village is never safe,” the man said and limped towards Sulrochil and the wounded man, “Will he survive?”  
  
“His wound is not bad,” Sulrochil said and stood up. “But you lost at least eight men. Will you survive?”  
  
“We will always survive,” the man said and looked up to the sky, swallowing hard.  
  
The elves helped the men to heal the wounded and gather the corpses into two piles. When the sun began to set, an old man thrust a flaming torch into to the pyre of the villagers’ loved ones, and the elves ran into the forest. For a long time they ran to get away from the smoke fumes; to get away from the evilness; to find safety for Sulrochil to sleep, for she had killed so many. When the sky was dark and only the stars lit their way they found a pleasant spruce forest. For a while Sulrochil meandered between the evergreens asking for their solace and soon one of them invited them to sit under it. Silently they sat until Sulrochil fell asleep.   
  
In the morning she took her quiver in order to go and clean the arrows by the creek.  
  
“They are all clean, I washed them last night,” Legolas said, buckling his quiver.  
  
Sulrochil checked her quiver and arrows only to find out they were clean. She took one of her arrows, walked briskly towards Legolas and pointed her finger at his chest:  
“You Legolas, son of Thranduil have no right to touch my arrows, or my quiver, or my bow, or any of my belongings without my consent.” With each sentence, she prodded him, making him back off.  
  
“I would have asked your consent,” he said, eyes flashing and lifting his hand furiously up but halting before actually touching her hand to move it. “But you fell asleep before I could do it.”  
   
“Then you should have woken me up,” She moved away from him and threw her arms up furiously, still grabbing the arrow.  
  
“I very well could not have done it and you know it.”  
  
“No, I do not know,” she said and split the arrow against her knee into two pieces and threw the both parts on the ground. She turned and threw him a last glance over her shoulder before starting to attach her quiver.  
  
They did not speak, but only began running towards the headquarters to give their report to Chief Marchwarden Filvendor. Even though Sulrochil would have wanted to flee, she could not do it as they had to do the report together. Do everything together.  
  
After a while Sulrochil began feeling miserable. She should not have got that angry at Legolas. She had been so furious at herself falling asleep like that and forgetting to clean her weapons in the night. She always took a good care of her weapons, and he had only tried to help. She just could not understand why she always had to throw all her anger at Legolas. She glanced at him a couple of a times when he was not looking and the rigidness of his shoulders told her how irritated he was. It did not take long for the monotonous pace of running to make Sulrochil’s anger melt away.  
  
She jogged beside him and said solemnly:  
“Please, forgive me, Legolas. It was wrong of me to get angry at you this morning. You did not deserve to be treated like that.”  
  
He stopped, but did not say anything for a while, did not even look at her.  
“What was it this time, then?” he finally asked.  
  
“I was going to clean my arrows and my weapons yesterday, and I felt such a fool I had fallen asleep before doing it. I feel so disabled and miserable when I can not do my own tasks properly. I probably should just quit once and for all. The arrows were only a poor excuse for me to blow up. I was actually angry at myself and not you. I am sorry I always do this to you. Can you, please, forgive me?”  
  
“I forgive you, Sulrochil,” he replied and turned to look at her again, “We both knew how it would affect you when we decided to attack the orcs yesterday and I can live with that. I was prepared to keep watch while you slept, as I knew that would happen. You performed your task perfectly, like always. I can trust you with my life in a battle, and I only hope you would trust me when you have to face the battle in your soul. So please, do not talk about quitting because I can not do this without you, and I want to do this with you.”  
  
“Thank you for cleaning my weapons,” she said. “I should have said that to you in the morning and not the ill-advised foolishness I did.”  
  
“And for the next time, I would like written permission which allows me to clean your weapons if you sleep.”  
  
Decades of constant involvement with each other had taught Legolas that Sulrochil lived up to her name and at any moment she could be anything from soft breeze to an unpredictable whirlwind. And when she was in the stormy end of her scale, it was not wise to argue. It would be like pouring oil on the flames. And he also knew, sooner or later, usually sooner, she came to apologise. And when she apologised, she meant it sincerely.   
_(Sulrochil = Wind Rider)_  
  
*  
  
In Minas Tirith Gimli was eating breakfast and curiously watching the Mirkwood elves having an official meeting at the other end of the dining hall. It was odd to see the lad’s demeanour suddenly change into something so authoritarian. First Gandalf had been the leader, and then Aragorn, and Legolas had taken orders from them like any other. No complaints whatsoever. Well, perhaps minor ones, but they did not count. And now, the lad seemed to own the whole world and giving orders to the subordinates. There were four of them around the table, but only three seemed to actually honour his authority.   
  
The fourth, who happened to be a titchy elf lady, thin as a snake, looked at the mighty prince like her eyes would shoot daggers. The lassie had some spirit, for sure. Gimli could not wait until the meeting was over and Sulrochil could say what was in her mind.  
  
“What is so amusing?” Aragorn said when he sat beside Gimli and began eating his porridge.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” Gimli replied, “Do you have all in order for tomorrow?”  
  
“Almost everything is in order. All other Embassies have reported, except Mirkwood.”  
  
“Well, look over there,” Gimli pointed towards the Mirkwood elves. “The Messenger brought yesterday everything they’ll need.”  
  
“I see,” Aragorn turned to look at them and smiled, “That is a relief for Legolas. He has been a bit worried.”  
  
“You might want to take a closer look at the messenger.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“See for yourself. The lassie with the dark hair.”  
  
Aragorn looked at the said messenger and saw her annoyance, it was plain in her eyes. Legolas was speaking so silently that Aragorn could not hear the words, but he could not fathom what could be the reason for the messenger to be so angry, as Legolas seemed to be giving orders politely as ever.   
  
Soon the meeting ended and all the others left. The messenger stood up and her eyes flashed like lightning as she began pronouncing her opinions. But Legolas stayed calm, as if he was only thinking “Oh, let her rant, she will stop someday”. It really was not a disagreement between a superior and a subordinate, it seemed like an argument of… well, it flowed as easily as if they had been practising arguing for years. The lady’s anger melted, in one brief instant there was regret in her eyes and suddenly both smiled like there had been no quarrel at all and when Legolas spotted Aragorn they walked towards them.  
  
“Good morning Aragorn,” Legolas said in the Common Tongue, so Gimli would also understand, “Finally I can report Mirkwood Embassy to the coronation tomorrow. There will be five members, including me. Here is the required document.” He handed Aragorn a piece of paper. “And this is Sulrochil, the messenger who brought us all we need for tomorrow.”  
  
“Pleasure to meet you Sulrochil,” Aragorn said politely, “and welcome to Minas Tirith.”  
  
“It is an honour to meet you, Aragorn,” Sulrochil said bowing to Aragorn, “I have not yet had time to see the city, but it looked truly magnificent when I rode here yesterday.” She did not want to elaborate, she actually had been here a long time ago, instead she said: “Have you eaten, Legolas? I could get something for us.”  
  
“No, I had no time for that. Are you really going to eat too?”  
  
Sulrochil did not reply, only turned and left.  
  
“How are the preparations for tomorrow?” Legolas asked when he sat down with the others.  
  
“Now that you have reported your Embassy, there is only one problem left,” Aragorn said.  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“The kitchen said they could use more meat and I wanted to ask you if you might want go hunting some birds today,” Aragorn said with a sideway smile. “And if Sulrochil happens to know how to use a bow, you could order her hunting too.”  
  
“Order her? I can not order...” Legolas said puzzled, and after realization he grinned. “So you saw it.”  
  
“It was difficult not to see,” Aragorn smiled. “Who is she really?”  
  
“We are a Marchwarden Pair.”  
  
“You told me in Lothlorien that you are nowadays a Marchwarden, but never mentioned her.”  
  
“There was nothing to tell and you never asked who my partner was.”  
  
“I see.” Aragorn knew the ways of elves and there was no way to question Legolas more than that and it was clear the elf did not want to tell more at least now when the lady was within hearing range.  
  
Sulrochil came back, thrust a bowl of porridge in front of Legolas and sat besides him with a mug of herbal tea and said:  
“So, what are the plans for today? Is everything alright for tomorrow? And good morning, Gimli, do you want so see archery today?”  
  
“You boasted so much yesterday, there’s no way I’m gonna miss seeing your show,” Gimli replied and turned tell Aragorn. “The lass claims to be better shot than Legolas.”  
  
“That was not boasting, it was the truth,” Sulrochil said raising the left corner of her upper lip all the time gazing Gimli.  
  
“It is the truth,” Legolas said, “but Aragorn, did you really mean there is a need for bird game for the feast tomorrow?”  
  
“There is truly a need for more meat,” Aragorn replied, ”because there will be lot more people tomorrow in the city than we anticipated earlier, but I really could not ask you to go hunting for us. Now you are members of a foreign embassy.”  
  
“It will be no problem,” Legolas said and glanced at Sulrochil.  
  
“Hunting birds would be delightful,” Sulrochil said smiling. “I need to get out of the city anyway and breathe fresh forest air.”  
  
“That is settled, then,” Legolas said. “Gimli, do you want to come too and do the butchering? And see for yourself ‘real archery’ as she said?”  
  
“Are you pointy-ears so feeble, you can’t butcher a bird?” Gimli said. “Of course, you’ll need a dwarf for that!”   
  
“I assume we can bring as many birds as we happen to get, and they will be used tomorrow?” Legolas asked Aragorn.  
  
“You are right about that,” Aragorn replied, “Just do not forget we will have our last meeting tonight with the Fellowship when all eight remaining members can be present, so please, come back before it.”  
  
“I could never forget it,” Legolas said.  
  
“That sounds delightful,” Sulrochil said, “and if they forget it, I promise to get them back in time. That is an occasion not to miss.”  
  
  



	4. In the Forest of Ithilien

Baraniel whinnied cheerfully when Sulrochil entered her stall and began brushing her. It was a fine day and the prospect of leaving the cramped city made both the elf and the mare excited. Out of a corner of her eye she saw Legolas walking a white horse out of another stall and take a rope from the wall.  
  
“Do we really need to have the archery match?” Legolas asked, attaching the rope to his mount. “Is it not enough I admit she is better?”  
  
“Nah, laddie, she can’t be that much better a warrior than you,” Gimli said. He thumped his axe on the floor, scaring the horses.  
  
“No, Gimli, not a better warrior,” Legolas said and put his hand on the neck of his horse to calm it down, “only a better archer.”  
  
“That is true. Legolas is a better warrior than me. Much better,” Sulrochil said, walking her mare to the corridor and pausing for a moment. She tilted her head to the right. “Actually we can not even be compared. He is way out of my league. If there was someone to give us warrior points like 100 points in archery, 50 points at using the knife and so on, his points would exceed mine by far. I am atrocious in field battle and I would get more points only in archery.”  
  
“And in hiding,” Legolas said, “but it does not change the fact you challenged me in archery.”  
  
“Please, Legolas,” Sulrochil pleaded. “We have not had a proper competition in what? Ten years?”  
  
“Are you afraid, laddie?” Gimli grumbled and hit the floor again with his axe, this time more forcefully. Both mounts in the corridor tried to bolt and every horse in the stables released a high-pitched neigh, a horrendous uproar filled the air. The elves whispered softly in Elvish to the frightened animals to settle them and finally managed to get them under control.  
  
“You have no choice, Legolas,” Sulrochil said and scowled at Gimli. “Or a third bang on the floor will make all the horses panic and become so terrified they break free from their stalls. Then we shall have to use the rest of our day to collect them from the Pelennor Fields.”  
  
Keeping his horse tightly reigned in, Legolas solemnly raised his fist in front of him in traditional Mirkwood way, looked into Sulrochil’s eyes and said: “Challenge accepted.”  
  
Sulrochil stared back at him, touched his fist with her own and replied: “May the best archer win.”  
  
“Now that’s the spirit!” Gimli exclaimed with enthusiasm, but kept his axe firmly fixed in his hand to keep the horses - and the lady - calm.  
  
“So, where are we going,” Sulrochil asked when they began riding out of the city Gimli seemed to be quite at ease on horseback with Legolas, even though the dwarf was grumbling.  
  
“There is an archery track over there,” Legolas pointed toward a wooden fence in the distance. “I have been there shooting a few times.”  
  
“Good,” Sulrochil smiled, looking at him. “You always need practise.”  
  
Then she spurred Baraniel to gallop, grabbing the mane of the horse and leaning forward. Her hair blazed behind her in the sunlight as they made huge circles on the fields but still arrived at the archery track at the same time as Legolas and Gimli. They set the horses loose in the nearby meadow.  
  
“So, lassie,” Gimli said, eyeing the archery track with four targets.  
  
“What?” Sulrochil asked.  
  
“What kind of points you’d get, if you gave the warrior points?”  
  
“I would get 100 points in archery,” she said. “And Legolas would get 80. Does that sound plausible?”  
  
“I guess so,” Legolas said and took his bow from his back.  
  
“You have a new bow,” Sulrochil said. “May I see it?”  
  
“I got it in Lothlorien.” Legolas handed the bow to Sulrochil.  
  
“It looks magnificent,” she said and took the bow from Legolas and turned it before her eyes to scan it properly. “Then I would get 100 points in hiding and Legolas would get two points.”  
  
“Two points?” Legolas said, raising his eyebrows. “How generous of you.”  
  
“Why two?” Gimli asked.  
  
“Because,” Sulrochil replied, glancing at Gimli, “even a dwarf can hide behind a rock and therefore would get one point. Is this bow any better than than the earlier one?” Sulrochil drew the bow to test it, aimed it right past Gimli’s ear and even though she had no arrow, it made the dwarf almost flinch.  
  
“I see, please, do go on. Your points are intriguing,” Legolas said, observing the movements of her fingers on the string. “You might want to put an arrow to the bow, if you are going to shoot it.”  
  
“That jest is as old as my grandfather,” Sulrochil sighed and handed the bow back to Legolas.  
“How about making up some new ones?”  
  
“How about just shooting the arrows and getting over with it?” Legolas said.  
  
“How many?” Sulrochil said and continued her story, while beginning to count her arrows. “Then I would get 100 points in the field battle. Legolas would get 2000 or perhaps 3000 points. I would have no chance against him. Maybe he should get five thousand, who knows?”  
  
“If we shoot thirty arrows,” Legolas said. “I will be on the 26th when you are finished. But your warrior points are incomprehensible. Why you get 100 points in everything?”  
  
“Because,” Sulrochil tilted her head to the left and paused for a moment. “I am not sure. Do I need an explanation? I guess I give myself 100 points because it feels right.”  
  
“But it does not make any sense,” Legolas said. “If you get 100 points in archery, you should get at least 500 points in hiding - or perhaps 5000, if we use your scale. And you would never get similar points in the field battle as you get in archery. Compared to your archery skills, you should get no more than - ”  
  
“But I want to give myself 100 points,” Sulrochil insisted.  
  
“I know,” Legolas said throwing a glance at her, “and please continue wanting as much as you like. I give up.”  
  
“You aren’t going to give up now!” Gimli said.  
  
“I meant the laughable squabble,” Legolas sighed.  
  
Both counted thirty arrows for their quivers and put the extra ones to the ground. They took the tracks, Legolas on the left, and Sulrochil on the right, like always. Gimli gave a signal and they began shooting.  
  
The show was over almost before it began. Legolas was much faster than Gimli ever had seen. But the lass really was quick and Gimli could not fathom how the lad had known exactly how many arrows behind he would be.  
  
“So, that was it. How about we just go and pull the arrows?” Sulrochil said lamely when the last arrow from Legolas’ bow had hit the target. “We need to go hunting. There will be a lot of hungry mouths tomorrow.”  
  
“Aren’t you gonna brag about your win?” Gimli asked, and even to his eyes it was clear whose arrows were closer to the bull’s-eye.  
  
“No. I dislike winning,” Sulrochil said and began walking towards the targets.  
  
“She hates it because it draws attention to her, but more than that she dislikes if someone suspects her abilities,” Legolas said and walked after her.  
  
“Sorry, I had to do this at your expense,” Sulrochil said when Legolas reached her.  
  
“I am glad I could be of assistance,” Legolas strode past her so close their arms brushed and began pulling the arrows out of the targets.  
  
“Are you angry because I won?”  
  
“No,” Legolas looked at her puzzled. “Why would I be angry about something neither of us can not change?”  
  
“You seemed angry for the tiniest moment.”  
  
“It is never pleasant to lose a competition.”  
  
“I know. I will stop teasing you about your shooting at least until tomorrow,” she grinned and tucked the arrows into her quiver.  
  
“You forgot what we will be doing tomorrow.”  
  
“The coronation,” Sulrochil gasped. “So, we will make it the day after tomorrow, then.”  
  
“How about stopping it altogether?” Legolas said.  
  
Sulrochil burst out laughing. “Never.”  
  
*  
  
They rode a long while through the woods in order to get deep enough to the forest and stopped by a small creek.  
“I’ll make a fire so I can roast the first bird you happen to get. I’m not gonna sit here hungry all day,” Gimli said and searched for Sulrochil. Legolas stood right beside the horses, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Hey, where’d the lassie go?”  
  
“I am here, Gimli,” Sulrochil said and took one step to the right. Now Gimli saw she stood next to the horses.  
  
“What? How’d you do that?”  
  
“It is her hiding skill,” Legolas said. “Some elves are better in hiding than the others and Sulrochil’s skills exceeds almost all elves. If she is in her hiding mode, she can not be detected by any normal senses.”  
  
“Huh?” Gimli said. “There’s someone even better than that?”  
  
“Aye,” Sulrochil replied. “There are elves who can move in their hiding mode.”  
  
“But,” Legolas continued her sentence, “in order to be able to do that they must go totally weaponless and trust only in hiding.”  
  
“It is that their souls can not truly make them undetectable if they try to count on both to weapons and to hiding,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“It is not their souls,” Legolas said, turning to look at her, “but their minds.”  
  
“Souls, not minds,” Sulrochil said, pointing her finger at Legolas. “We have been through this many times.”  
  
  
“Too many times,” Legolas sighed. “But let us not force Gimli to listen to our unending debate over this.”  
  
“You are right. And, Gimli, if you look at the clothing of Legolas and me,” Sulrochil said. “You see we wear mostly similar clothes. This is our Marchwarden uniform, but the colours are different. My apparel is grayish green, to help me hide even better. And I do not have any kind of metal parts showing in my clothing or weaponry as they could glint.”  
  
“But the clothes are only an addition for her, the main thing in the hiding is her inner ability,” Legolas said.  
  
“Sounds just like something only elves could make up,” Gimli huffed. “Well, lad, is there a reason why you’ve those colours?”  
  
“There is a reason for everything,” Sulrochil said. “Most of his colours are green, which helps even him to hide in the forest, but the biggest difference is his sleeves.” Sulrochil pointed at Legolas’ arm. “His shoulders are covered with dark jerkin, and around the elbows a light shirt sleeve is visible and on his wrists are these disgraceful black leather bracers. Almost every male Marchwarden chooses these kind of contrast colours because they show strength and function as warning - ”  
  
“That’s the most foolish gibberish, I’ve ever heard,” Gimli grunted. “Do you think anybody would take a look at your clothes if you’d show up in a forest poking around with your arrows? Anybody with eyes in his head can see almost a foot taller lad is stronger than a buzzing bumblebee, although she might be quite stingy - ”  
  
“They do not need to take a look,” Sulrochil interrupted the dwarf. “They just see it!”  
  
“You forget we lesser people don’t have your superior eyesight!” Gimli said.  
  
“You do not need elven eyesight to see,” Sulrochil threw her arms up in the air, “colours!”  
  
“Could you two, please, stop?” Legolas said, leaning against a tree trunk and holding his bow loosely in his hand. “You are probably the two most stubborn people I have ever met and if you continue quarreling, we will never get those birds hunted.”  
  
“I am sorry,” Sulrochil said hanging her head down. “You are right, Legolas. It is no good arguing over nothing.” She lifted her head and added: “I will go to the east. We shall see soon.”  
  
In a blink of an eye she ran away.  
  
“How did she do that?” Gimli asked confused, looking after her.  
  
“Do what?” Legolas asked, looking at the same direction.  
  
“One moment there’s a storm coming and out of the blue it’s clear again.”  
  
“She is always like that.”  
  
“But why did she flee and not wait for you?” Gimli asked.  
  
“Sulrochil did not flee,” Legolas said. “She would never let me anywhere near her, when she is hunting.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I make too much noise and scare all birds away.”  
  
“You? Noise?”  
  
“That is what she says.”  
  
“Does she walk silently in front of the birds and grab them in her hand and say ‘Please forgive me, Master Goose, I need you to come with me so there can be a delicious feast tomorrow of your meat.’?” Gimli spoke in a pitched voice impersonating her.  
  
“How would I know? I have never seen it,” Legolas smiled. “But one thing I know and it is that I must go to the west.”  
  
“That much is clear for me too,” Gimli said and began making the fire.  
  
It was clear a spring day, the last of April. Some pennyworts were already blooming here and there near the place Gimli had his fire. There was a meadow nearby in which the horses pastured. Legolas brought Gimli the first bird very soon, threw it to him saying something about dwarves and their never-ending appetite, and ran away hunting more.  
  
Gimli prepared the hazel grouse and began roasting it. By the campfire he wondered how strange it seemed he had walked through Middle-earth with the lad and never even once he had mentioned her. Not until yesterday, when the journey back home was around the corner. Was the reason really that there was nothing to tell, or had the elf missed the lass so much he had had no heart to tell about her?  
  
The elves hunted more and brought the birds, mostly geese, to Gimli who butchered them and hung them on a tree branch. He offered food also to the elves, but neither wanted to eat. It seemed odd to a dwarf, how the creatures could run through the woods and never eat. Especially the lass; did she even know which end of the spoon is supposed to go to the mouth?  
  
In the afternoon Legolas came back with three more birds, put them to the ground near Gimli and said:  
“I guess that is enough. We should wait for Sulrochil and then get back to Minas Tirith so we are on time for our last meeting.”  
  
“It’s great to see Frodo on his feet again.”  
  
“It truly is,” Legolas said, staring deeply into the abating flames of the fire and poked it with a stick.  
  
Soon after Gimli had finished the three last birds Sulrochil also came back with two more geese.  
“I see, you should be getting back soon,” she said to Legolas.  
  
“Aye, afternoon is late,” Legolas replied, glancing at the position of the sun in the sky, “and we should get back for our meeting.”  
  
“I am not coming,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“What?” Gimli exclaimed. “You said you’d not wanna miss the meeting.”  
  
“I meant it is an occasion you two should not miss,” Sulrochil said. “I would never intrude on that kind of an event. It is your meeting and I want to explore these woods more. They seem fascinating.”  
  
“If there is a choice for Sulrochil,” Legolas said and turned to smile at her, “to be in a crowded city, talking to people, or to be alone in a forest, to feel her soul unite with the trees. Well, it is not a choice at all for her.”  
  
“This forest is inviting,” she said, inhaling deeply, looking at the tall pines on her right. “Can you not feel it?”  
  
“You know I cannot feel it quite like you do,” Legolas said and turned looking at the lines of hanging birds on the trees. “But we will need both horses to take all these birds to the city.”  
  
“You can have also Baraniel, I shall run back at the evening.”  
  
“Would she come with us?”  
  
“She would come with you,” Sulrochil said in Elvish. “If I tell her to do so.”  
  
Sulrochil quietly spoke the name of her horse, who trotted to her. The elf put her hand on the horse’s neck and whispered something to the mare and asked Legolas to put his hand on the other side of Baraniel’s neck. He did not hear everything Sulrochil said to her horse, but there was something about trust and friendship.  
  
“Now she will come with you,” Sulrochil said, switching back to Common Tongue.  
  
“Are you finished with your “talking to the horses” foolishness?” Gimli said.  
  
“It is not foolishness!” Sulrochil snapped, and when she turned to look at the dwarf, she did not bother to argue anymore and said: “Never mind. You two just go with the both horses and take the birds to Minas Tirith and directly to the kitchen.”  
  
“What a clever thought ‘directly to the kitchen’,” Legolas said. “Never would have figured that out by myself.”  
  
“And have a joyous meeting tonight with your fellowship and may the laughs overcome all the sadness,” Sulrochil said and walked away.  
  
Sulrochil walked slowly in the forest towards a small creek she had found earlier. In the nature many spots were ruined because of the wicked orcs, but there was still much purity lingering within these trees. She inhaled the fresh spring air and listened to a common chaffinch twittering from a thick willow. The joyful sight of a white wagtail constantly swinging his tail made Sulrochil smile - every year the instant she saw the first white wagtail after the long winter and spring was the moment when the summer began to her.  
  
She crouched by the creek and began washing her weapons - first the arrows, because her life depended on those. While she wetted a small cloth and wiped each arrow clean, she felt the soul of each arrow on her fingertips. Each arrow had an soul whispering to her. A soul, consisting of the soul of the tree from which its shaft had been made, of the soul of the bird whose feather has been used and of the soul of the elf who made the arrow. Of the souls of all elves who had ever shot the arrow, and of the soul of everyone whom the arrow has saved or will save.  
  
Each arrow had a tale under its wings. So had her knife - although not as glorious as her arrows had. It was not a magnificent knife with a name, but it had served her well during the past centuries. She put the knife underwater and let the cold water wash it clean. And when she dried it she could let her gaze wander through the forest again.  
  
Perhaps there could be a spring also for the Middle-earth after long darkness which had fallen upon the world because of Sauron’s forces. But she knew, even though Sauron himself had been destroyed, there still were many places full of orcs which should be wiped thoroughly out of the lands of the decent people. And their fortresses should be demolished. And it would have to be made sure when the time of the men would begin, there would be no evil left on the earth.  
  
No evil, except the evil men themselves create.  
  
But the orcs would be harder to wipe out than the water off her knife. In a flash she saw image of crimson blood flowing on the blade and in her bones she felt it was not blood from the past. The sight chilled her and slowly the blood faded away, but the vision had been hammered into her soul.  
  
She lifted her head and turned it carefully in both directions, but heard no sounds of enemies. It was not the blood of today.  
  
It was blood yet to come.  
  
The darkness fell and Sulrochil walked here and there in the forest, for there was something inviting in these woods. Trees were standing guard when the elf walked by, and they seemed delighted to have a wood-elf amongst them, singing silently in her mind as she walked by. The forest did not demand, the forest did not ask anything from her. They only swayed to give shelter to the elf and when the elf slid her palm on the bark, she gave strength to the trees.  
  
A small spring was hidden under half-decayed fallen aspen trunks, but her ears did not miss the gushing sound of it. She made a small scoop from birch bark and with it drank the untouched water which could be found only in the nature. Carefully she hung the scoop on one of the fallen aspens - for the next thirsty traveller. It was a tradition of Mirkwood, but perhaps it could be applied also in these forests of Ithilien.  
  
Aye, the old Greenwood the Great had grown foul, but if there was something good in her home forests, she would want to bring those things in here too. The trees of Ithilien talked in her language. They touched her soul and she felt the call of the forest.  
  
Spruce pearls were a delightful surprise for her to find. In Mirkwood the spring growth of the lightest green did not appear this early, she collected some shoots off the tips of the spruce branches and chewed them to relish the taste of the forest in her mouth. The all too familiar bitter taste filled her senses and made her to feel at home. The dark green evergreens invited her to climb and up she went.  
  
Upwards, until she there was nothing but the thinnest branches above her. The stars looked down at her and like always she searched first the Plough, because for her it was not seven stars below The Northern Star, but her army group of seven.  
  
“You must live,” Helediron had said. And live is what she did - The Undying Lands had never appealed her - but the purpose of her life she did not know. The awed look on Heledirchon’s face when he had mumbled his final words of seeing Sulrochil wearing… Naturally at the time she had not understood his words, but later she had realized in his vision he had seen her clad in the Marchwarden uniform, and perhaps it meant her purpose in this life was to still save some lives serving in the Marchwardens.  
  
Or perhaps she still could do something good by aiding the disabled forests to heal.  
  
The moon wandered through the black sky when she leaned on the spruce trunk and dug a bite of lembas out of her pocket. Nibbling her food, she contemplated if she should stay in this tree for the whole night. In order to survive nights alone in the woods, she had learned to sleep in cloak swings, tying her cloak loosely across the tree trunk. Then simply asking the tree to keep watch while she slept. The presence of the wood-elf always gave much gaiety to the spirits of the trees.  
  
Branches were swinging in the wind, and the creaking sound filled her ears as she considered what she should do. She inhaled the familiar scent of the dark green spruces and asked the trees for advice. They hummed about friendship, which made her recall the promise she had made.  
  
And even though she would not have been promised, staying was impossible. Forcing him to dash through this wood, worry clouding his eyes - only to find her cocooning in her cot - would not do.  
  
The stars lit her way when she ran back to the White City.  
  
*  
  
It was almost midnight when Sulrochil finally got back to Minas Tirith. First she went to the stables to check Baraniel, and was pleased to see someone had brushed and tended her properly. She examined the hooves of the mare and it was not hard to see they had been cleaned by an elf. Men always left nasty dirt on the hooves.  
  
Sulrochil began climbing the endless stairs up, and after taking her weapons and her cloak to her room she walked through a corridor towards the entrance of the dining hall to get some herbal tea. It seemed the only thing she could consume here.  
  
Just before she entered the hall a bunch of rowdy men came behind her. They were singing out of tune and smelled of booze, dirt and smoke. Probably they had been traveling through the wilderness for a some time. Sulrochil in her tight-fitting clothes made one of them drool.  
  
“Hey, look at this woman over here,” a tall bearded man said. “Nice bum.” And reached to grab said bottom.  
  
“Shut up, Roderwan,” his friend yelled. “She’s an - ”  
  
He did not get his sentence finished when Sulrochil had already manhandled Roderwan down the floor lying on his stomach and had her foot on the man’s back twisting his arm in an impossible angle.  
  
“ - elf,” the friend ended his sentence silently.  
  
“Do not touch me,” Sulrochil hissed and twisted his arm a bit more. “You, slimy snail, have no right even casting your eye over me, much less pawing me with your filthy hands.”  
  
The noise attracted audience and there were lot of people watching when Legolas seemed to materialize out of thin air. He had sensed Sulrochil’s location was somewhere in the middle of the pack of roaring vermins.  
  
“Do you need help, Sulrochil?” Legolas asked, although he saw there was no need for any help, except the aftermath. The assailant was firmly on the floor under Sulrochil’s foot. His friends were just standing, mouths hanging open and watching the tiny elf lady overpower the man very much larger than her. Legolas was speaking in the Common Tongue, as he knew their talk would be mostly aimed at the man on the floor. It was not the first time there would be a man foolish enough to try this kind of a thing.  
  
“I cannot decide,” she pondered, looking at Legolas. “If I should break his arm of not.”  
  
“Let me go,” the man said trying to get free, but his attempts were in vain. Sulrochil pressed her foot harder onto his back and twisted his arm a bit more.  
  
“Let me see,” Legolas stepped close to the man’s face, his toes almost hitting the man’s nose, and looked down at him. “Did he actually touch you?” He turned to look at Sulrochil his face showing utmost disgust.  
  
“Of course not,” Sulrochil replied. “He was too slow for that.”  
  
“Then, according to the elven law, he may keep his arm,” Legolas said and offered his hand for Sulrochil. She took it and let the man go.  
  
When the man finally stood up and stretched his arm in pain, his friend came beside him saying:  
“Roderwan, don’t say a word. Let’s go outta here.” The friend tried to pull him further to the corridor, but he just stood there grimly eyeing the elves. Roderwan was taller than Legolas and tried to understand what on earth just happened. How that elf lady had been able to do what she did, when her head hovered somewhere at the male elf’s shoulder?  
  
“You should listen to your friend,” Legolas said, glaring at Roderwan. “Or I might change my mind about your arm.”  
  
Roderwan - throwing a last scowl at the elves - finally let the matter go and when he left with his friends, everybody around them began cheering. Legolas nodded to the people, and then turned his back to them moving to stand between the crowd and Sulrochil, shielding her from the curious looks and indicating to the people to leave them alone. “Are you alright,” he asked.  
  
“I should have broken the man’s arm. He was revolting,” Sulrochil replied.  
  
“That would have been unnecessary,” Legolas smiled down at her. “He got the worst punishment he could fathom and it was to be overpowered by a teeny-weeny elf lady.”  
  
“You almost laughed.”  
  
“It looked so ridiculous. He was taller than me.”  
  
“And his shoulders twice as wide as yours,” she said, “still I could never do that to you.”  
  
“Of course, not. Men are weak.”  
  
“True. But I came to get herbal tea. Their food is abysmal.”  
  
“Have you eaten anything after arriving here?” Legolas asked.  
  
“Herbal tea and water,” Sulrochil replied.  
  
“Since when are those food?”  
  
“The fishes swim in the water, so it is almost food.”  
  
“You could make up some new jests, that one was as old as the Moon in the sky.”  
  
“You are right. But you should go back to your meeting. Gimli is waiting for you over there.”  She nodded towards Gimli who was standing near the doorway. Of course, he had been keen to see how much guts the lady had and had come to watch.  
  
“The meeting is already over, there are only Gimli and Aragorn left. Please, come with us.”  
  
“No, I will not intrude, as this is the last night in ages when you will be able to be with your friends,” she said. “I shall only get a mug of peppermint tea and go to my room. We shall see tomorrow, and as long as you have the crown on your head, I wish we both stay in our respective roles.”  
  
“I am glad you said it, it will be easier that way.”  
  
They bid each other goodnight and Sulrochil left, searching for her beverage. Only when she began walking, she realized they had held hands during the whole conversation. And now without his hand, her own felt out of place.  
  
The feeling in her right palm was all too familiar - she knew how it felt to catch an aggressor. But the left hand, the hand which had been gently enveloped by a larger, stronger one, left her at a loss - she did not recognize the feeling beginning to form deep down in her heart. If she had to give a name for it, she would name it as safety. But still the word was incomplete, it did not cover every aspect and left in the dark something in the corners of her soul. Incoherence flooded her as she walked further.  
  
*  
  
“Hey lad,” Gimli said to Legolas when he saw Sulrochil begin walking towards the dining hall, swiping her palm slowly against her thigh. “Where did she go?” It was not the palm she had used to grab her attacker.  
  
“Sulrochil did not want to intrude upon our meeting.”  
  
“Our meeting is over, you dullard. You could have gone with her,” Gimli said, glancing at the hand of the elf, before fixing his eyes on Legolas’ face. “You should have gone with her, but that didn’t even cross your mind, did it?”  
  
“Why would I have gone with her? After tomorrow we will travel together back to Mirkwood and I will see her everyday, but I am not going to see you and Aragorn for a long time.”  
  
“You really haven’t the foggiest how to do this!”  
  
“Do what?” Legolas asked.  
  
“Never mind. The pointy-ears! I just wonder how miserably you’re going to mess up things if you don’t have a clue how to do this! Let’s get back and drink more ale! Lots of ale! Can’t think of anything better to do tonight than drink pints of ale with buddies!” Gimli mumbled under his beard, shaking his head in disbelief and began leading the way back to Aragorn. After a short while he saw the elf had gathered himself enough to follow the dwarf. Gimli decided to drop the matter and said: “But I don’t get one thing. The lass said today she’s terrible at fighting, how did she flip the man to the floor?”  
  
“You have not noticed,” Legolas said, “she has a slight tendency to exaggerate things? Do you believe she could be a Marchwarden if she did not have fighting skills? Earlier today she was only comparing herself to me.”  
  
“Ah, would I have chances against her?”  
  
“Without difficulty she can defeat men, with orcs she needs little more effort, but can do it. She has never fought against dwarves. You are stronger, but she is quick and more agile...” Legolas considered the question. “If neither of you had any weapons, you would beat her, but if both of you had your usual blades, she would beat you.”  
  
“And we don’t even say what if she had her bow…” Gimli said.  
  
“You would not even know what hit you,” Legolas said in a peculiar tone that sounded like the elf could not think of a higher praise for a lady.  
  
They arrived at their table and Aragorn asked: “Why did you not ask Sulrochil to come here with us?”  
  
“I asked her,” Legolas said. “But she did not want to come. She said she did not wish to intrude, but I guess she wanted to go to her room after that show because she hates when the men leer at her. She is not used to it.”  
  
“Whaddaya mean?” Gimli asked.  
  
“When have you seen any elf ogling anyone?” Aragorn asked and answered the question himself. “Never, because they do not do that. They usually do not even watch the other gender, until they love each other, not to mention doing other things.”  
  
“You are pulling my leg, aren’t you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You can’t mean he’s never watched ladies.” Gimli pointed at Legolas. “That can’t be true, he must’ve seen thousands of them.”  
  
“Gimli,” Legolas said. “Of course I have seen thousands of ladies, but seeing and watching are different things.”  
  
“This isn’t real,” Gimli said shaking his head. “This can’t be real. You’ve never watched ladies’…?” The dwarf cast a brief glance at his chest. “You know… Never?”  
  
“Gimli,” Legolas sighed. “They are just body parts.”  
  
“But how you don’t _see_ them?” the dwarf insisted.  
  
“I _see_ them,” the elf replied. “But only as one thing that differentiate a female body from a male one. And I really cannot understand the attention you all give to this matter.”  
  
“There is actually a different word in Elvish for ‘watching someone’s body with interest’,” Aragorn said, “but it must be translated only as ‘watch’ because there is no equivalent in the Common language.”  
  
“Can’t you translate it to ‘ogle’?” Gimli said.  
  
“No. That is not ogling what elves do. There is nothing rude in it.”  
  
“Aragorn,” Legolas said looking thoughtful. “Actually the word is not ‘watching someone’s body with interest’, but ‘watching someone’s body with love’. No one can do it unless they love each other.”  
  
“There you go, Gimli. The love for elves is such a pure and sacred thing, you cannot imagine,” Aragorn said shrugging.  
  
“I’ll go and get more ale,” Gimli said, standing up. “I’ll need it.”  
  
“Me too,” Legolas said, still very much in his own thoughts looking out of the window the dark sky with the multitude of stars.  
  
“Bring it to all of us,” Aragorn said to Gimli. “It will be the last night for ages when I can sit a night with you two.”  
  
Gimli brought three mugs of ale. “So, lad, I’ve never heard about the elven law of breaking arms.”  
  
“Me neither,” Legolas said smiling. “But I had to make up something so she really would not do it.”  
  
Gimli laughed heartily at that and they had to tell Aragorn the whole story and after that they began reminiscing their journey and all the battles they had fought together.  
  
And drank the ale, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!


	5. The Coronation

The offensive dress, made of thin gray linen, ankle-length, with a v-neck, hung near the door of her room. She had tried the dress on during the first night in Minas Tirith, and it fitted perfectly. Actually too perfectly; she would have preferred a little more loose one. The seamstress had said it had a modest neckline, but in Sulrochil’s eyes it showed half of what should not be seen by anyone.  
  
Today would be the intimidating coronation with standing in the crowd, listening to mind-dulling conversations with masses of people around her, conversations she would go to great lengths to avoid. Today she would have to endure rude staring all day, and be surrounded by tables full of immeasurable amounts of food she would not eat anyway.  
  
She dreaded attending the ceremony, and she dreaded wearing that abominable piece of clothing, but she was thoroughly loyal to her orders from the King and she would not give up now. Besides, she had promised Legolas she would attend. That reason was probably more important, than the orders from our Despicable King.  
  
And she honoured Aragorn. He would have a mighty task of leading mankind to a new Age. Everybody owed their gratitude to him, for he had led the men to the final battle and won the war. The Dominion of Men was about to begin and Aragorn would be the symbol of it. Sulrochil had heard only great things about him and she knew he would be precisely the King the men needed.  
  
Today she would bow to him - and to the new era he represented.  
  
Sulrochil dressed up and thanked herself for saving her dress shoes from the occasion sixty years ago. She had came home back from the funeral of her army comrades, her hair falling limply on her shoulders, and her eyes swollen with tears - back home to her mother who was withering away in the mourning of her late husband. Faintly mother had taken a comb and nodded for Sulrochil to sit in front of her. Sulrochil felt her mother beginning to untangle her hair. Mother’s strokes were so weak Sulrochil feared she would never finish the task, but slowly she had managed to make her hair smooth again.  
  
“Now I am ready to sail,” mother said, “but you, Sulien, you are now ready to live.” _(-ien=daughter)_  
“Mother,” Sulrochil replied, “you untangled my hair, not my soul. I cannot see the light through the obstacles of my heart.”  
“Sulien, mourn for Helediron, mourn for your comrades. Mourn for father and mourn for me, but only for a while. Promise me after that you will find your path, you will find what is meant to be.”  
  
Sulrochil took her mother’s thin hand and squeezed it. When she looked at her eyes, she knew her mother’s heart beat in the same rhythm as her father’s who already was in Valinor. She tucked everything she wore on that day into a trunk and never looked into it - not even when she carried it into her cousin’s home, after her mother had left for her final journey, and Sulrochil could not stand the emptiness of her home. Never had she looked into the trunk until she had to open it in order to get the shoes for today.  
  
A smile came to her face when she recalled Heledirchon and how he would have laughed over Sulrochil fussing over something as simple as wearing a dress. They had had a centennial celebration in their army unit and every single time she had feared the occasion weeks before.  Every single time Heledirchon had made fun of her “Sulrochil, the Tiddly, who fears a flimsy dress more than a thousand orcs”.  
  
It felt good to be able to remember him without the spike through her heart. And it would be wonderful to have him here today, for it would be a long day, long and lonesome. Everyone Sulrochil knew in this city, would be out of her league today. She did not belong to the table of the royal and honoured people, with Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and Gimli, not to mention the wee hobbits who had done it all. Neither did she rightfully belong to the group of the members of various embassies, for she was only a Marchwarden - meant for scouting deeply in the woods, not tottering around royal and noteworthy people. She was only substituting someone notable, a high-level member of the King’s court.  
  
Today she would feel most at ease if she could stand watch at the gate of Minas Tirith and keep all the prim and proper people safe.  
  
Unfortunately, that was not an option. Sulrochil left her room and walked towards the dining hall, trying to remember how you were supposed to move with a long dress and shoes that almost slip off at the heel on each step. Her hand searched for the strap of her quiver in vain and her fingers curled as if holding a bow - her whole being was unsuited for today.  
  
The city was swarming with people in fine costumes and servants running here and there. When Sulrochil was nearing the Mirkwood Embassy, she saw Legolas first from his back. It felt strange to see him wearing such things. A gray ceremonial robe, embroidered with silvery threads and his golden crown on his head. And his hair, without the usual braids seemed weird, like he was not himself at all. Sulrochil had naturally seen Legolas in his full ceremonial attire before, but it had been only in the distance. The last time was probably the millennial birthday of King Thranduil a long time ago - but never after they had acquainted, never this close.  
  
Slowly Legolas turned around and when his eyes fixed on Sulrochil, his face showed a chain of emotions - first something unrecognizable, then wonder and shock, as if he had not expected her to be standing there, but he certainly did sense her location through their Wardens’ Bond, even with that thing on his head, and should not be surprised.  
  
His face then went blank, showing absolutely no emotion as he turned his eyes away from Sulrochil.   
  
“My Lord Legolas,” Sulrochil said, smiling and bowing to him.  
  
“Sulrochil, messenger of our King Thranduil,” Legolas said but his eyes were distant and he was looking somewhere on the wall over Sulrochil. “Good morning.” He sounded unapproachable and made Sulrochil feel like he was grinding her soul like a hatchet on a grindstone.  
  
“Good morning,” Sulrochil’s smile faded. Did the role of Prince of Mirkwood really require being rude, as she had heard? Was smiling forbidden when he wore the crown? She had heard rumours of that as well, but never believed them. Still, his face now looked like it was made of stone.  
  
“Now that everyone is here,” Legolas turned a little so his words would be aimed for all four members of the embassy, Sulrochil, Gliriel, Maegorodon and Thannor. “We can move to the top level of the city in which the coronation will take place.”  
  
Legolas led the way with a pace so fast that Sulrochil had hard time to keep up in her dress and impossible shoes. They reached the place which seemed already full of people, but when a guard showed them their positions that they needed to wait in for at least a couple of hours, more and more people walked in.  
  
The weather was fine, the sun was shining and it was a nice spring day, the first of May. Many birds flew above them and Sulrochil was delighted to see a barn swallow. She had a good time spotting different species of birds when they waited for the coronation begin as no one was interested in her.  
  
All morning Legolas was talking to the other royal people of different kingdoms, and did not even glance in the direction of Sulrochil. He seemed much more like himself, when she observed him from a distance. When he talked to Elrond, he was content and smiling. With the King of Rohan he exchanged a few laughs and got a friendly clap on his shoulder from the man. It was obvious he was now with his own class - and smiling was not forbidden. His eyes shone in the sunlight brighter than his smile when he turned to look at the mountains in the distance and lost in reverie for a brief while.  
  
For thirty years she had been a Marchwarden pair with Legolas and not even a single time had his different roles caused any difficulties, but now he seemed so abrasive and distant - for her.   
  
The other three Mirkwood elves had engaged themselves in an enjoyable conversation with the members of other elven embassies. Sulrochil felt like an outcast in this royal ceremony with these high-class people. Everyone she knew here, were of higher rank than her, and she felt lonely and out of place.  
  
So, it was a perfect day for gazing at the sky and find as many different species of birds she could. Oh, was that the screech of a jay?  
  
The ceremony itself was magnificent and Sulrochil enjoyed everything, especially the speech of Aragorn. He spoke wisely. She also was delighted to see Arwen here, it was clear that her love for Aragorn shone in her eyes, making her more beautiful than ever. But what she would remember for all eternity was the most uplifting moment of the whole day - bowing to the real heroes. The awed look on the eyes of the hobbits when they realized everybody was bowing to them. And in her heart she felt the truest hero of them all was Samwise, who had been there for his friend when there had seemed to be no hope left.  
  
The ceremony ended too soon. Even though all royal guests and the embassies of foreign kingdoms were allowed to leave first, they had to wait in the crowd for a long time before they were finally in the Great Hall where the feast for the night would take place. Sulrochil sat by the table with the members of various other embassies, somewhere near the wall. In the middle of the Great Hall was a long table for the royal people and naturally all members of the Fellowship of the Ring. Aragorn sat at one end of the table, and Gandalf at the other. Sulrochil was delighted to see all four hobbits today, even though Frodo still seemed a bit forlorn. Sam was fussing over him and Merry and Pippin had a jolly time together - Sulrochil had no difficulties  distinguishing them, even though she never had met any of them.   
  
And never she would meet them, because the only people who could introduce her to them, were not talking to her today. Today she was not suitable company, she understood that much. She recalled the evening she had arrived here and they had sat in the dining hall. Gimli and Legolas had told her about the quest, and vividly described everything, including the hobbits.   
  
Unforgettable was also how Legolas had looked at her then, when he believed she was not looking. It was clear he had missed her and had been pleased to meet her again. More than pleased - his eyes had been filled with affection all night, especially when he had lit the lamp for her when they had arrived in her room. It had been a small gesture but there had not been any greater deeds for him to be done to take care of her.   
  
Yesterday he had been feigning annoyance when she had deliberately peeved him with the ludicrous warrior points - but still overjoyed to be to be with her again and resume the ongoing raillery.  
  
Today, he refused even to glance at her.  
  
Had the King anticipated this and thus sent Sulrochil here? So that she would see who Legolas really was: The Prince of Mirkwood. And Sulrochil - only a lowly citizen, not worth his time. During their Marchwarden duties it was all too easy to forget who he truly was, but now, here in the massive royal ceremony, the truth had been unmasked.  
  
Several chandeliers lit the hall beautifully, and the multitude of the flickering candles brought a festive atmosphere. As Sulrochil had guessed, there were tables full of enormous amounts of food, many roasted geese and a plethora of other dishes. Still, the beginning of May was probably the worst time to hold any kind of celebrations, as there was not much fresh grown food available and all of the stocks from winter had been used. That is why Sulrochil was delighted to find out there was a soup made of fresh nettles.  
  
The soup tasted delicious. While Sulrochil was spooning her soup, it came to her mind that Legolas should not see her eating. It was also some kind of a long-running game for them - Sulrochil trying to seem like she never eats, and Legolas pretending to be worried. It had begun accidentally, Sulrochil required sizeable amounts less food than Legolas and he had been alarmed at first about it. Sulrochil stopped eating in his eyesight in order to annoy him more and somewhere along the way he figured out it, but the game was continued, nevertheless. Today it seemed inconsequential and foolish, something not meant to these kind of fine halls of the fine people. And still he had not even once looked at her, so it would be altogether the same if Sulrochil would eat a barrel of the soup.  
  
After the main course there was a break in the feast and the guests were allowed to mingle, before the dessert would be served. Sulrochil went to the balcony and leaned to the bar watching the dark sky with millions of stars whispering to her. She began singing silently in her mind one of her favourite songs ‘Under the Northern Star’ when she heard someone was coming towards her and she heard a voice saying: “You look beautiful.”  
  
Sulrochil turned to see the person next to her and said smiling: “Thank you, Gimli.”  
  
“You would’ve liked better if I’d said ‘It was a nice knockout yesterday for the poor fella,’” Gimli said.  
  
“You are right,” Sulrochil nodded. “I would have. I am a warrior through and through, not meant to strut around in fine dresses.”  
  
“The lad said yesterday you couldn’t flip me to the floor like that,” Gimli said proudly lifting his jaw.  
  
Sulrochil tilted her head and looked at the dwarf pondering his words carefully. “If Legolas said that, then it is the truth. He just sees these kind of things, he has been leading the army for so long.”  
  
Naturally, it meant that Legolas had also been her superior for all 600 years when she had served in the army. There had been, of course, many levels of officers between them, but still. When they had met thirty years ago on the first day of the training camp for the new Marchwardens - not that any of them needed any kind of a training, except the rules of Marchwardens - Sulrochil had still been full of grief for everyone she had lost, and had never  given a second thought as to who Legolas really was. The first task had been...  
  
“Hey lass,” Gimli said. “You’re miles away.”  
  
“What?” Sulrochil shook her head and saw she was not in the training field, but in a balcony in Minas Tirith under a mesmerizing night sky. “I am sorry, I was thinking - ”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, even by my dwarven eyes I can see whom you’re thinking about.”  
  
“What I was thinking was how Legolas might see who can fight and who can not, but that is probably the only thing he sees. Today he has not even glanced at me after we first met in the morning, and I do not know why he has to be so rude.”  
  
“What if he saw more than he believed he would?” Gimli asked.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.  
  
“Nothing, if you don’t get it yourself.” Gimli prodded his forefinger on the elf’s shoulder before grabbing the bar with both of his hands and fixed his eyes on the dark sky.  
  
“Perhaps you are right,” Sulrochil sighed. “From what I know, he has not worn the crown in many decades at least, and maybe he finally saw me as I am - a low-class elf.” She bit her lip and tried to shrug the image of Legolas out of her mind.  
  
“Perhaps,” Gimli said and his voice sounded defeated, but Sulrochil could not understand why.  
  
“What are your plans tomorrow after this pompous act is finished?” she asked instead.  
  
“I’m going home, to the Blue Mountains.”  
  
“That is a long road.”  
  
“The way home is never too long.”  
  
“You are right about that, Master Dwarf,” Sulrochil said. “There is something I need to tell you now. I have never met a dwarf before and you are nothing like what I have heard about dwarves.”  
  
“Well, is that good or bad news?”  
  
“Let me put it this way. In winter we heard rumours in Mirkwood that Legolas is a part of the fellowship sent to destroy the Ring. And the rumour also had he had befriended a dwarf - ”  
  
“How did you hear that?”  
  
“It was after you had visited Lothlorien. Someone brought the word to Mirkwood.”  
  
“Those babbling pointy-ears!”  
  
“Everyone tell rumours, even dwarves, but what I wanted to say is that before I met you, I had doubts about you. But now I have met you, and I know you are wonderful and enjoyable company and I do not understand why there is so much animosity between our races. All my life I have been told dwarves are monstrous and repugnant, but you are not like that at all. Aye, you might be crude, but you are amiable and I never expected that. And to tell you the truth, you are even more than that, for there is something enchanting in your demeanour.”  
  
“Hah,” Gimli exclaimed. “Be careful that you’re not swept off your feet!”  
  
“What I mean is, your habits might be distasteful, but your heart is pure gold. And I would not be surprised if our people have always disparaged dwarves, so that we would not be beguiled by you. I will miss you if we never meet again.”  
  
“I might come to visit your neck of the woods later. The lad invited me there.”  
  
“Would you really dare to visit Mirkwood after what happened to your father and the others back then?” Sulrochil smiled lopsidedly.  
  
“Nah, that was nothing.”  
  
“Well, if you ever come to Mirkwood, I also wish to meet you.”  
  
“I have a hunch that can’t be avoided…” Gimli said and left his sentence unfinished when he heard a bell ring indicating they should get back to their seats and there would be dessert and the remaining of the program. When they walked back to the Great Hall, Sulrochil whispered to the dwarf:  
  
“I cannot wait until the dessert is served, for after that I will be free to go. And, you know, I shall flee as soon as possible and run to the forest to sit on the tallest tree gazing the stars with the night owls.”  
  
Gimli knew the precise reason why the lady had shared her plans with him. It was obvious what was going on between those two, but why did they not figure it out by themselves? Well, the lad might have latched on to something today, but the lass - in the dark like a bat.  
  
Still, it would be fun to wait the exact moment when the lad would notice her leaving the city through their Weirdness Bond - or what was it? - and become uneasy, but unable to do anything.   
  
The dwarf would not let him out of his misery too soon.  
  
*  
  
In the next morning before dawn Sulrochil sat on her bed sharpening her knife, and wondered if she should go to the stables this early. When she had decided to wait still for a moment before leaving, she sensed Legolas coming towards her room. Why he was coming here, as the orders had been to meet at the stables? She waited until she heard a knock and only then did she open the door. There he was, smiling warmly in his usual clothing, all weapons attached, casually carrying a package in his left hand.  
  
“My Lord Legolas,“ Sulrochil bowed, giving him a sour look.  
  
“Stop that,” Legolas said and his smile faded.  
  
“I thought you wanted that from now on,” she sneered.   
  
“What?” Legolas huffed. “May I come in so I do not have to listen to your arguing in the corridor?”  
  
“Please, do come in, my Lord” Sulrochil showed him the way by her arm, bowing again. Legolas stomped in and slammed the door close behind him.  
  
“We decided to stay in our roles while I have the crown on my head. Do you see the crown now?” He pointed to his head and stared directly at Sulrochil’s eyes.  
  
“Aye. The crown is not visible, but still it is there.” Sulrochil looked at the top of his head as in seeing the golden crown shining there.  
  
“I thought you considered me as your equal.” Legolas threw the package on the bed.  
  
“I have never met you in your ceremonial attire, and now when I have seen you in that role, it is hard to unsee it.” Sulrochil glared at him furiously.  
  
“Still it is a role,” Legolas sighed.  
  
“Did you need to be so rude? Did I seem so inferior you could not even talk to me?”  
  
“No,” Legolas looked at the wall. “It was a trying day, I dislike that role and I was only trying to remember all I needed to take into consideration yesterday.” Legolas turned his eyes back to her annoyed. “Then this morning I come to see you and all I get is you exploding at me.”  
  
“I was so out of the place yesterday,” she said silently and turned her eyes to the floor. “I did not belong to the honourable people who were there celebrating the new King, nor I did belong to the group of fine members of the royal embassies, for I am only a substitute and not a real one. What would have suited me the best at the coronation, would have been to stand in the line of guards with my bow.” Sulrochil lifted her eyes back to his and continued spitefully. “That is what my role is in this world. We will never be equals.”  
  
“For thirty years we have been equals and not even once there has been a problem. Aye, there have been many kind of other problems, but never about equality.”  
  
“In those thirty years your roles never collided. I never even once thought about who you are, until almost six months ago when you left on your secret mission, and now, when you try to be two people in one. Do you remember what you did yesterday?”  
  
“What do you mean?” he asked.  
  
“You shut me out!” she shouted. “You did not talk to me or even look at me! Why? Because you had such a good time with the royal people. Kings and Queens! Princes and Princesses! All day you laughed with them!”  
  
“They are my friends!”  
  
“Exactly! They are your class. I am not! You were happy with them and you discarded me because I am not like that. I am only a - ”  
  
“You do not understand, Sulrochil,” Legolas interrupted her.  
  
“Well, make me understand!” she yelled.  
  
“You really do not have a clue why I did not look at you yesterday after the very first sight?” Legolas said in a silent voice. He did not look at her, but fixed his gaze on his toes.  
  
“I have a perfect idea of it! You finally saw me as who I am - nothing! I am nothing compared to you!”  
  
“Please, do not say that,” he said, still staring at the floor. “You mean a lot to me. You are…” he could not finish his sentence, for he could not tell her what he really thought. In an agonized voice he continued: “I never had anyone with whom I could be equal. Never, until I met you. Sulrochil, please, do not take it away from me.”   
  
Sulrochil heard the torment and frustration in his voice, recognized the authentic plead and it made her leave the worst sting out of her speech and reply in a milder tone:  
“It is difficult, because we should be walking towards the stables to get our horses and leave towards Lothlorien. And when we will be down there with our horses ready to leave, you will be the leader of our group and I will take orders from you like everyone else.”  
  
“I am not going to give orders to you.”  
  
“You of all people should know if a large group of people travel through wilderness, they must have one leader. Otherwise everything is impossible.”  
  
“There is no need for that - ”  
  
“I think there is, and besides, you have a right to order every person in Mirkwood if you wish.”  
  
“I cannot exercise that right on you.” He still did not look at Sulrochil, but his voice was softer than ever.  
  
“Why?” Sulrochil asked, and she did not know if she was truly asking why his voice suddenly stirred something deep down in her soul, something she did not even know existed.  
  
“Because I consider us equal.” Legolas gazed Sulrochil deeply at the eyes as if trying to convey his uncompromising opinion to her.  
  
“But we are not equal,” Sulrochil said as unyieldingly.  
  
Legolas sighed, sat on the bed and leaned his forehead on his palms. Right now she reduced herself lower than the deepest abyss in Moria mines, and elevated him into something he refused to be. In the blink of an eye he should make up a sufficient enough solution that would be acceptable for them both and Legolas finally said:  
“I know you are not going to change your mind, so I want us to say the words of giving and taking the leadership by the rules of Marchwardens.”  
  
“But we are not doing our Marchwarden duty right now.”  
  
“I do not want to give orders to you unless we do it.”  
  
Legolas stood up and Sulrochil saw something in his eyes that prevented more arguing and she straightened her posture.  
  
“Legolas, I give you the leadership and will obey your orders,” she said solemnly looking directly at his eyes.  
  
“Sulrochil, I take the leadership and I have the right and responsibility to end my leadership at my will.”  
  
For a while they looked at each other in silence, never they had uttered those words after the training camp in which Chief Marchwarden Filvendor had given a lecture about giving and taking the leadership temporarily and made them memorize the exact wording. And not after long the whole demeanour of Sulrochil changed suddenly. She did not look anymore him directly and in every way she was more subdued.  
  
“Now give me your package, please,” Legolas said. “I will put it into mine, so you do not need to carry anything extra.”  
  
“Aye, Legolas,” Sulrochil said obediently and handed the package for Legolas who put it onto the larger package that he lifted from her bed.  
  
“Sulrochil, that was a request, not a command.”  
  
“No, Legolas,” Sulrochil said. “You are the leader now and whatever the leader says is always an order no matter which wording is used.”  
  
“Do you really mean you will consider everything I say as an order?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Then it is better if we do not talk at all.”  
  
“I agree.”  
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Then let us go and get over with this.”  
  
Legolas led the way towards the stables, Sulrochil followed. Today was the day when she had promised to continue teasing him about his archery skills, but that did not happen. Many times he had seen that look on several faces - it was the look of a subordinate. Never before had he seen it on her face and the sight would haunt him forever.   
  
There had always been elves around him who were better in archery than he was, but no one had ever made quips about it, could not have made them, for you do not make remarks like that to your leader.  
  
For many centuries he had walked past various groups of soldiers engaged in friendly banter, only to realize he had no one with whom to do the same. Never - until he met Sulrochil. And now she was gone as well.  
  
The last encounter with his father came to Legolas’ mind again and he repeated the words of his father in his mind. _“You are a member of royal family. How could you be equal with anyone?”_ Did father send Sulrochil to Minas Tirith for Legolas to see he could not be equal with her? But she was equal with him and it was never going to change.  
  
She was much more than that. He would do everything to make her see it.


	6. Of Equality

In the fields surrounding Minas Tirith there were dozens, if not hundreds, of people traveling in various directions. Legolas raised his arm to mark the departure and began riding. All four Mirkwood elves followed him, as did the four elves from Lothlorien, all male, looking altogether similar, and all of them riding gray horses. It almost looked like there were four copies of one elf.  
  
Something in the wave of his arm seemed strange for Sulrochil, it was like she never had seen him doing that before, even though it was a familiar gesture. She had no time to ponder it more closely before she began riding, letting everyone else go first, deciding to ride next to last, in front of Thannor - who was the last, just as Legolas had ordered.   
  
“We shall ride to Lothlorien as fast as possible,” Legolas had said tersely, when they had gathered in the field before leaving the city, “and rest only the minimum time for the sake of the horses. I will ride first, and Thannor last. Any questions?”  
  
“If we are in a hurry, are we still going to stay in Lothlorien for two nights as planned?” Maegorodon asked.  
  
“Aye,” Legolas replied. “The horses will need the rest.”  
  
Sulrochil wondered why Legolas had not put her last, because she could give him a signal through their Wardens’ Bond, if there should be need for that. Was he really refusing to give commands to her even though he had every right to?  
  
The main thing in Sulrochil’s mind, though, was one question that did not leave her alone. Why had Legolas been so distant and cold at the day of the coronation? _“It was a trying day, I dislike that role and only was trying to remember all I needed to take into consideration yesterday.”_ It occurred to her that it was a lie. Legolas always remembered everything of importance and he had been to many coronations and various other royal ceremonies in his lifetime and knew precisely how to act on those kind of an occasions.  
  
Sulrochil was furious, and if she had an opportunity to go and confront him right away, she would certainly give him an earful, but there was no way to do it and that irritated her even more. She glared at Legolas who was riding through the plains leading the group, his light hair flowing in the wind and when he turned his upper body slightly, apparently saying something to Maegorodon who was riding behind him. Something in how Legolas held his back seemed to be distorted, making Sulrochil’s outrage grow at each moment. Why was everything so strange today?  
  
The exact moment in which Legolas would pronounce the words to Sulrochil to make them equal again, would be the moment he would hear just how much she hated that he had been so rude towards her and especially how he had dared to lie about the reason.  
  
It was a cloudy day and the weather smelled like it could rain at any moment. In the huge fields of Gondor they had spurred their horses to gallop, but when they reached the forests of Ithilien, riding got slower and Sulrochil could let her mind wander.  
  
The tranquility of the forest brought some peace to the turbulence of her mind and she began reminiscing a crisp night of May over thirty years ago when she had been sitting on a tall pine, looking at the starry sky, as was her wont in those days. Her aunt had arrived, asking Sulrochil indoors.  
  
“I have news for you, Sulrochil,” Rhovanel, the sister of Sulrochil’s late mother, said when they had entered the house and each had a mug of hot lavender tea in their hands.  
  
“Should I be interested?” Sulrochil asked, sipping her tea.  
  
“Aye, you should,” Rhovanel said gazing at the younger elf piercingly. “They are recruiting new Marchwardens.”  
  
“What does that have to do with me?”  
  
“You, young lady, are going to be a Marchwarden!”  
  
“Me? Who in their right mind would take someone smaller than a grasshopper into the Marchwardens?”  
  
“You have exactly the abilities they require: army background, excellent in archery and - ”  
  
“There will be dozens of better elves applying and I will have no chances to ever get there.”  
  
“Your hiding skills are exactly what the Marchwardens lack right now.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Sulrochil asked.  
  
“I heard rumours,” Rhovanel replied.  
  
“The rumours could be wrong.”  
   
“Nevertheless, I have registered your application and your appointment with Chief Marchwarden Filvendor will take place tomorrow.”  
  
“You have no right to register me to anywhere!” Sulrochil exclaimed.  
  
“I do not care. You are going to go there,” Rhovanel crossed her arms over her chest. “You have no choice but to get there and do their tests tomorrow.”  
  
The elf ladies gazed at each other for a while, until the younger had to relent.  
“Alright, Rhovanel,” Sulrochil said. “I will go there tomorrow and give Chief Marchwarden Filvendor a good laugh when he realizes I am not much larger than a skinny fox.”  
  
“Aye, but foxes are quite clever.”  
  
“Where will I meet him?”  
  
“I do not know.”  
  
“What? How I am supposed to go to the tests, if I do not know - ”  
  
  
“Sulrochil, you must find him,” Rhovalel whispered. “All they said is that you must go tomorrow to the Headquarters of Marchwardens and from there on, you are on your own. You do know where the Headquarters are?”  
  
“Find him…” Sulrochil fell deeply in her thoughts contemplating her task tomorrow, making her aunt smile inwardly; finally something that intrigued the mind of her niece.  
  
At dawn Sulrochil walked to the Headquarters of the Marchwardens of Mirkwood. Never before  had she been there, for it was strictly forbidden to go without a good reason. There was nothing surprising; an archery track here, an open field there, and a small cabin up on a tall pine. Slowly, she paced in the open area and since she did not notice any signs, she decided to climb up to the cabin. Perhaps Chief Marchwarden waited for her there - and only wanted to see if she had enough wit to actually check there first and not at once dash into the woods trying to find him.  
  
He was not in the cabin.  
  
On the ground, Sulrochil put her palm on the tree trunk, closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. When she opened her eyes again she saw a few marks on the hay. She pressed her cheek and ear against the pine bark and listened to the whisperings of the tree. Lifting her head up, she closed her eyes again and turned her head around to hear better.  
  
When she opened her eyes, the path was clear before her. Each tree hummed to her, telling her the right direction. She strolled between the trees, gently touching their trunks as she walked by. Finally the track ended under an ancient maple, who emanated pride as Chief Marchwarden Filvendor had chosen it as his hiding tree.  
  
“Good morning, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor. I am Sulrochil,” she said, looking up between the branches of the maple and saw a tiny movement of an arm which assured also her eyes of what her heart already knew; Chief Marchwarden Filvendor was up on this tree. “Would you like me to climb up there too?”  
  
“No need for that, Sulrochil,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor replied up on the tree, peeking through the foliage. “Go south and you will find a square-shaped area marked with flags. The length of each side is about a hundred yards. Hide inside the area, but on the ground, you are not allowed to climb a tree. I will come in an hour to find you.”  
  
After a short walk Sulrochil found the first flag, a small piece of gray cloth draped around a pine trunk. Looking in both directions she saw more flags around the trees and walked into the marked area. Beside the pine began a nice area full of thick spruces - perfect for hiding. Too perfect, she thought, and walked deeper into the area. There, found a huge rock, covered with soft, green moss.   
  
Carefully, so she would not leave even the smallest track on the ground, she lay down beside the rock, as close as she could fit into the crack between the rock and the ground. With her cloak, she hid her weapons, and then she just waited.  
  
After an hour, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor came searching for her, like he had said, and as Sulrochil had anticipated he first went into the spruce forest. When he did not find Sulrochil there, he walked in straight lines through the area.   
  
Sulrochil had always enjoyed the kindness of moss. Moss was friendly and it was easy to feel like being a part of a clump of moss. Filling her mind with images of the tiny stems of moss, she felt like she was moss herself.  
  
Chief Marchwarden Filvendor walked past the rock covered with moss and continued searching the area. After he had walked criss-cross for over two hours he had to give up.  
  
“Please, say where you are, Sulrochil,” he said in the middle of the area. “But do not move.”  
  
“I am near to the big rock,” she replied. “To north from where you are standing right now.”  
  
Chief Marchwarden Filvendor strode closer and walked many times around the rock. Sulrochil could not move her head, so she did not see him, but in her mind she pictured him turning his head at different directions, trying to see her at different angles, in different shades, in different light. She heard him crouching for a few times, apparently that he could see better, and finally she heard him say:  
  
“Get up!”  
  
Sulrochil rose up, brushed the most of the moss off her clothing and fixed her eyes expectantly at Chief Marchwarden Filvendor.   
  
“You are better than I expected,” he said, eyeing the lady in front of her. “I asked Hithfaeron about your abilities, but this is not what he told me.”  
  
“Captain Hithfaeron saw me the last time in the Battle of the Five Armies, when I still was an Archer in his unit,” Sulrochil said. “Now that the war is done, I have had time to improve my hiding.”  
  
“Your cousin has the ability of moving while hiding. Have you considered achieving the same skill?”  
  
  
“No,” she replied, and took a grip of the strap of her quiver. “I am a warrior. I am not willing to go weaponless.”  
  
“Marchwardens could benefit of your hiding skills. Go home and wait for the letter from me.”  
  
“You do not want to test my archery or fighting skills?”  
  
“Hithfaeron told me enough of those. The real test was if you would show up today. After what your aunt told me, I was not sure if you would be willing to come.”  
  
“I have used enough time up on a spruce, trying to accord my soul with the spirit of the trees. It is time I keep the promise I made to my mother after the war and find my path. Find what there is still in this world for me to find.”  
  
*  
  
Not long after, Sulrochil received a letter informing her that she had been accepted into the Marchwarden training beginning on the 1st of June.  
  
When that day came, Sulrochil attached her weapons, walked briskly to the Headquarters of Marchwardens and saw there already were nine elves standing on a formation of a half ring on the yard, seven male elves and two female. Before the nine elves stood a short male elf with  very dark hair and eyes which seemed almost black, but the grim looks could not hide entirely the amiability glinting on the eyes of Chief Marchwarden Filvendor.  
  
Everyone turned to look at the last approaching elf and Sulrochil could see a disapproving expression on some faces until she walked past a thick fir. Chief Marchwarden Filvendor was the only one who was not surprised to see her merging briefly into the fir - all the rest of the elves present were astounded by her ability. Every elf had that effect to the eyes of mortals, but being capable of hiding accidentally from the eyes of the elves, was a rarity.  
  
“Welcome to the Marchwarden Training all of you,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said when Sulrochil had also entered standing on the formation. “We have ten recruits here and this training camp will last three weeks. This day and night we will stay here at the Headquarters, and tomorrow morning we will go to the woods for the rest of the time.  
  
You must remember that everything in this training will be a test. Everything you will say or not say, do or not do, will have an impact on whether or not you can be accepted into the Marchwardens. Every one of you has proved that you have all the abilities needed in Marchwardens, but not every one of you necessarily will become a Marchwarden.  
  
I am the one who will decide if you will be accepted. If I will find something not acceptable in one of you, that person will be disqualified. And as you all know, Marchwardens of Mirkwood patrol in pairs, so if one of you is disqualified, it will lead into problem - there will not be a pair for another one and that person will be dismissed.  
  
I am the one who will decide who will be paired up with whom. While I will take into consideration who gets along with whom, do not take for granted you will be paired up with someone you have befriended during the training. I must consider the combined skills of each pair. And that leads into question of the last pair. When I have decided four pairs of the eight of you, there will be two people left. If the skills of those remaining two do not match, I have the right also dismiss those two without other reason.  
  
In the Marchwardens of Mirkwood the hierarchy is simple. I am the leader and all the rest of the Marchwardens are equal. This means you ten recruits are equal in this training camp. You all have been in the army in various positions. Some of you have been the leaders of the others. Those relations do not apply here - in here you all are equal. You will obey my orders, but not those of any others.  
  
After the three weeks in the training camp I will name the pairs and each pair will get experienced Marchwardens as your mentor pair. The first two months you will be novices and patrol only with your mentor pair. Then you will be fully Marchwardens, but if ever there is a need to patrol in double pairs, you will patrol with your former mentor pair.  
Any questions?”  
  
No one had any questions and Chief Marchwarden Filvendor asked all ten of them to shoot at the archery field. Sulrochil would always remember the sound of the nine others striding to the field very confident of winning, only to find out the fastest would be the most unassuming of them all - the withdrawn lady with a trace of sorrow in her eyes.  
  
Sulrochil had pulled her arrows out of the target and began walking towards the next area, in which would be checked their fighting skills without weapons. Not one had even congratulated her of her invincible victory at the archery track, and she thought of what Heledirchon would have said to her. She felt a sting of pain in her heart.  
  
As she was walking away from the archery track, she heard a voice beside her. She did not dare to look at the person, because she was not sure if the grief was too visible in her eyes.  
  
“How did you do that?” the person said, and Sulrochil heard a smile in his voice. It was a male voice, but she could not distinguish who, for she had not heard any of them talk yet. Sulrochil did not think, but answered like she would have answered to Heledirchon.  
  
“You take an arrow, nock and release. Repeat. It is not difficult, I suggest trying it sometimes.”  
  
“Sounds easy indeed,” the person next to her said. “You are right, I should try. But did you not forget something essential from your list?”  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“Aiming.”  
  
“Oh, that!” Sulrochil said. “I have heard some people actually do it, but I have never found it useful.”  
  
“How your arrows find the target, then?”  
  
“I feel their route,” she explained. “I feel the arrow on my fingertips, the bow in my hand and the target in the distance. Then I only need to also feel the air between them, before sending the arrow on its way.”  
  
“In other words: you aim.”  
  
“I thought aiming is something you do with your eyes.”  
  
“Who said anything about eyes? You clearly do aim, even though it might be somewhat  unconventional. But do you know what, I believe the reason why you beat us all, is that you are so small that you need to move your arm a much shorter distance when reaching an arrow in your quiver, so you can do it faster than the rest of us.”  
  
“Do you know how many times I have heard that?” she sighed. “Have your comrades never told you how annoying it is to hear ancient jests again and again?”   
  
Sulrochil turned to scowl at the person next to her, and, for her shock, she recognized he was Prince Legolas. She was not sure if he had seen surprise in her eyes for the tiniest moment - probably he had - but in a blink of an eye she continued nonchalantly:  
  
“My name is Sulrochil, who are you?”  
  
“It is a pleasure to meet you Sulrochil. I am Legolas.”  
  
“Pleasure to meet you too, Legolas,” she said, not daring to look at him anymore. “So, what brings you to the Marchwardens?”  
  
“It was so frustrating in the army when there has not been any wars in over thirty years. I either had to begin a war by myself or come here to get some action. And you?”  
  
“My aunt said to me I should not waste the rest of my life sitting up on a tree, gazing the stars. She dragged me here.”  
  
“Wise aunt,” he said, smiling. “Did you see the stars also in the daylight?”  
  
“You might see the stars in the next task after I strike you,” Sulrochil said, glaring at him.  
  
“Should I be scared?” he said and flinched.  
  
“Aye, you should,” she replied. “Because I do not mean hitting you by my fists, but piercing you with my gaze.”  
  
“Only your gaze?” he said, and sighed in relief. “And I was already terror-stricken that you would threaten me with your words.”  
  
“Leave all your weapons to the side,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said, when everyone arrived on an open field for their next task. “Also any hidden ones. The first to fight will be Sulrochil, who will show us how to beat an orc.”  
  
Sulrochil was somewhat apprehensive about fighting against any of the nine others, they all were much taller and stronger than her, but she had no choice but to do as she had been told. She dropped her weapons on the ground walked into the middle of the field besides Chief Marchwarden Filvendor and set her jaw, trying to show no fear.  
  
“Since we do not have real orcs here, Calithilon will pretend to be one,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said.  
  
The tallest of all male elves walked in front of Sulrochil. Calithilon was over a foot taller than her, with long dark hair, and was eyeing her amusedly. Chief Marchwarden Filvendor moved to the side and gave a signal. For a moment, Sulrochil and Calithilon stood looking at each other apparently waiting for the other making the first move. Sulrochil felt her irritation rising, why did she have to be doing this? Everyone knew she had no chance against Calithilon or any other male elf present, most likely not even the female ones, because they both were taller than the shortest of males.  
  
Deciding to just get the annoying situation over with, she made her first move grabbing Calithilon’s arm quickly and bending it so he reeled, but after a moment he threw her forcefully onto the ground on her back.  
  
“You were supposed to pretend to be an orc,” Legolas shouted, taking a few steps closer to Calithilon and Sulrochil who was now sitting on the ground after the massive hit.  
  
“Anyone can see the lady on the ground can not fight,” Calithilon said, taking one step backwards and shifting his shoulders slightly as if he was not sure if he should bow or not.  
  
“Of course, anyone can see she can not fight against an elf as strong as you,” Legolas said. “But she can fight against orcs, and you were supposed to pretend to be one.”  
  
“How do you know she can fight against orcs?” Calithilon said, fixing his eyes on the ground. “Please forgive me, of course you must have seen it.”  
  
“No, I have not seen it,” Legolas replied. “But I saw a moment ago she is faster than you and at the moment she grabbed your arm when you were not ready, she used enough force to beat an orc. However, the exact moment you forgot you should be pretending to be an orc and began using all your elven strength, she lost the fight.”  
  
*  
  
The details of forming a friendship with Legolas began rolling in Sulrochil’s mind when she rode from Minas Tirith towards Lothlorien with the Mirkwood and Lothlorien embassies through the huge woods of Ithilien. When it became too dark for the horses to walk properly, Legolas stopped their group in the middle of a maple forest close to a small creek, ordering three of the Lorien elves to keep watch in turns. Since Sulrochil had no watch turn, and no inclination to talk with the others, after letting Baraniel graze with the other horses, she walked a small distance and climbed a tall maple, almost to the top of the tree.  
  
Climbing up a tree was exactly what Sulrochil needed tonight.  
  
The tree branches were full of buds in expectation of spring, it would not last long when they would open. Perhaps the warmth of only one bright sunny day would be enough - and then the tree could only hope the frost would not freeze the small leaves.  
  
Leaning her right side to the trunk of the tree she watched at the beautiful night sky, feeling happy to get out the crowd and noise to contemplate her journey all the way from Mirkwood to Minas Tirith and now again towards home. Sulrochil did not exactly know what she had expected when meeting Legolas again after his half-year absence, but it was definitely not this. Everything felt so complicated. He acted weirdly, like Sulrochil herself and the question of equality was troublesome.  
  
She had been lost in her mind but could never be so deeply in her thoughts that she would avoid sensing Legolas’ location and his approach. He climbed up and sat on a branch next to Sulrochil to the other side of the tree trunk, frustrated.  
  
“Sulrochil, I give up my leadership now and make us equals again,” his voice was strained, as if he was not sure what Sulrochil would answer to him.  
  
“Legolas, we are equals now,” she said quietly, and after a short pause continued steely: “You lied to me.”  
  
“When?”  
  
  
“Do not try to tell you do not know what I mean.”  
  
“Could you just name it? It is easier to listen to your arguing when I know what it is even about.”  
  
“You lied when trying to explain me why you behaved so rudely towards me at the coronation.”  
  
“I am sorry I lied to you,” Legolas said. “But I can not say the real reason I behaved as I did.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It is something I can not say to you now. Trust me, I wish to say it to you, but I just cannot.” Something in Legolas’ whole demeanour radiated anger and irritation and it made Sulrochil believe there really was a reason he could not share with her right away.  
  
“I realize this is again something similar to what you told me half a year ago in Mirkwood,” she sighed her anger ebbing away as it would be futile to resist the inevitable. “You cannot tell me everything as your role as a Prince of Mirkwood forbids sharing everything with others. I must get used to your many roles and you being a member of royal house can lead to these kinds of problems.”  
  
“You accept my explanation?” Legolas wanted to correct her wrong conclusion, but doing so would have led to explanations he could not give at the moment.  
  
“I trust you when you say there is a reason,” Sulrochil said. “And I trust you will share the reason with me someday if you can.”  
  
“Not if, when.”  
  
“Alright, then,” Sulrochil said looking at him trying to understand his meaning, but failing miserably. “I missed you when you were many months gone and now when we have met again, we both behave so oddly. What has happened?”  
  
“I cannot answer that,” Legolas said evading the question. “But what is in my mind right now is when we had uttered the words leading to giving and taking leadership in Minas Tirith, the look in your eyes and your whole demeanour changed suddenly and you seemed like I did not know you anymore. It felt like you were out of my reach. I could see you and sense your location, like always, but your mind and soul seemed to be elsewhere.”  
  
“I am sorry, but I had to do it. It is so deeply in me. They always taught us in the army, it is forbidden to be friends with your leader because he is there to give orders. If a leader says something, it is always an order, regardless of which wording is used.”  
  
“I have never thought it like that.”  
  
“When you were in the army, the only person above you was your father.”  
  
“And while he can give orders to me, I have the right to argue if I want.”  
  
“Aye, and you were the only person in the whole hierarchy who had that right. No one below you could do it without consequences.”  
  
“That was the main reason I wanted to join Marchwardens. To get rid of the hierarchies of the army and of royalty,” Legolas said reflectively.  
  
“But then you got me,” Sulrochil smiled. “Always picking a quarrel with you.”  
  
“You are the only person in the whole world who is not afraid to speak her mind to me. So when you argue with me, yell at me and nail me to the wall by your gaze, it means you consider me your equal. Even though it irritates me and gets me angry most of the time, I would not want it any other way.”  
  
“You cannot possibly mean that.” Sulrochil turned to look at him amazed.  
  
“I mean it. I accept you as you are.” Legolas looked at Sulrochil and she saw in his eyes something new, which seemed both light and heavy at the same time, making Sulrochil very uneasy.  
  
“When we met at the Marchwarden training camp,” Legolas continued. “You recognized me, but did not begin bowing and scraping like most people do. Amongst elves I am never treated equally by anyone but you. I cannot exercise to you my right to order the people of Mirkwood, and that is why I wanted us to pronounce the Marchwardens’ phrases for my leadership in Minas Tirith. But I also do not want us to say those words ever again, because it leads to losing your friendship.”  
  
“It is only temporary.”  
  
“I never want to lose you, not even temporarily.” Legolas looked directly at her eyes and Sulrochil saw a question in his eyes.  
  
She could not answer because she did not know what the question was and decided to pick an easier topic for their conversation. “You said I am the only person that speaks my mind to you. I thought you were friends with Aragorn and Gimli. Do they not do the same?”  
  
“Aye, they are my friends and while we can say things quite frankly with them, neither of them has the same ability as you have. I believe it is that your mindset is so different from theirs.”  
  
“You are so polite, you can say I am moody and my mind seems to function with wind.”  
  
“I am glad you said it yourself, so I do not have to say it,” he grinned.  
  
“Actually I did not make that up myself.”  
  
“Who said it then?” Legolas asked, but was not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.  
  
“It was Mithrandir maybe two years ago.” Sulrochil smiled and Legolas was somehow relieved about her answer. “He was going to the King when he encountered us in the forest and he heard me disagreeing with you quite loudly. And now I recall he also said I reminded him of some other.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“You know Mithrandir, he has his own cryptic way of not telling the whole story.”  
  
“Aye, I know that,” Legolas smiled.  
  
The conversation faded and they just sat silently, listening to the forest talking to them in soothing voices. Wind rustled in the trees, a distant owl hooted. Darkness of the night fell upon them as they sat together. Finally, Legolas reached his hand past the tree trunk and let his fingers lightly brush Sulrochil’s shoulder, bewildering her with his unexpected touch.  
  
“You should be sleeping, for we will leave in the morning as soon as the sky lightens enough for the horses. Please, come to the ground with me,” he said.  
  
“But I always sleep better in my cloak swing on a tree than on the ground.”  
  
  
“Not, if I sit close to you.” Legolas said.  
  
“So, you have noticed it,” Sulrochil said embarrassed, turning her face away.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Is it alright?” she asked, not daring to look at him.  
  
“Of course it is,” Legolas said softly. “If it was not, I would have never mentioned it and only tried to avoid anything like that with you.”  
  
“Why have you not mentioned it before?”  
  
“Before now I had no reason to mention it, but tonight I want you to come to the ground with me. You go and find a proper place for your sleep and I will sit next to you for the whole night. Neither of us has a watch turn this night so it means I can be with you to keep you safe, if you let me do it.”  
  
Sulrochil turned to look at his eyes and saw only sincerity and fondness. She nodded and they climbed down solemnly. There were no evergreens nearby, but Sulrochil knew she would not need the safety of the many layers of their thick branches tonight and there was no need to search for a special spot for sleeping, any spot would do if he was close to her. So, she decided to lie down under the same maple from which they had just climbed down.  
  
Usually she slept wearing her quiver, with the bow in her hand if she had to sleep on the ground in the wilderness, but a quick glance at Legolas reassured her and she dared to remove her weapons before lying down on her left side. Legolas sat behind her back a few inches away, close enough for Sulrochil to feel his warmth radiating to her, making her feel shielded against all enemies.  
  
Shielded against all enemies, except the enemy that was in her mind - the gruesome vision she had every night about the death of her army comrades at the muddled battlefield many decades ago.  
  
*  
  
Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. Legolas had never looked at her face this close when she slept and the tiny movements of her eyelids reminded him of the grim dream she had to face every night. Some time before he had left Mirkwood, she finally had told him about her dream. Through the years she had visioned it every night, but kept it by herself - until on one dark night in last October she had woke up and in a quiet voice, told him all about her nightmare.   
  
Was she walking in the battlefield or had she already found Helediron?  
  
Every night she had to see him die, and not only see. Every night she experienced the whole incident as she had the first time. Every night she walked, searching for her brother, not knowing what to expect, found his wounded body, and listened to his last words. Saw the awed look on his face when he told her he had seen the vision of her wearing the Marchwarden uniform. She saw the last light in his eyes - before they went black. Sang the mourning song for him and cried for him in her dreams.  
  
Every night she endured the death of her brother, as if it was the first time, and every night she felt his death tear her own heart apart.  
  
Legolas leaned a bit closer to see her whole face and his heart ached. Would there ever be a night that she does not have to suffer from this? She should not be forced to go through this again and again, but there was nothing he could do to alleviate her pain. He could not take away the pain she should not have had in the first place. Her soul was not meant to face death and definitely not meant to kill.  
  
He tried to estimate how many wars she had seen, and it was easy because he remembered vividly the day Sulrochil had joined the army. Of course, he had not known then that she had been amongst the elves down in the valley when he and his father had welcomed the very last lot of recruits to the army.   
  
The last recruits, because after them there were no younger elves to join the army.  
  
And she had killed, killed too many. Her delicate soul was never meant to kill. It should have been meant for nurturing. She had told him once that she could not remember a time when she had not wished to become a mother. As a child she had played with her dolls and loved them as she would love the children she someday truly had, and never dreamt of anything else. Not many years afterwards, it had became clear no longer any elf would receive the joy of parenthood - and the willingness to accept love in her heart had been destroyed, as her dreams fell apart.  
  
She directed her caring at the trees. Her home was a forest and her soul would always need the spirit of the trees to make her feel whole. She loved the trees more than anything, because there never would be an opportunity for her to bear a child to love. And - by her reasoning - if she never could bear a child, even the thought of marriage was unnecessary, thus she never would love anyone.  
  
She had joined the army because there had not been any other option left for her. She would never become a mother, she would never marry - it would be all the same to join the army and get killed once and for all. She had not been killed, though, but been taught to kill and learned she had. She had killed so many that her soul had hurt. She had faced death so much that her soul was in pieces. Her fragile soul that should only have been cherished.  
  
Killing hurt every elf, but in Sulrochil he had seen what centuries long agony did to an elf who never in the first place should have been anywhere near the violence of this world.   
  
She had been denied - the whole generation of theirs had been denied - the joy of having children.  
  
Legolas looked at Sulrochil’s face and saw that she slept peacefully now. The dream had ended and not even her eyelashes moved. It made him smile - finally she had a moment of rest in her dreams. She was a contradiction. A while ago her anger had again flooded over him - and her eyes had flashed at him greener than ever, trying to challenge him to fight. Now she lay softly on the ground, unarmed, depending upon him to be there for her. She was a mystery, a challenge.  
  
He thrived on the challenge and waited to meet the ultimate challenge in her.  
  
Watching the relaxed and still being next to her made him restless. Needing something to do, he reached his arm and took his bow. He lifted it on the level of his eyes and let his gaze go through the arch. Slowly he slid his palm over the back of the bow to feel the smoothness of it. The bow was flawless. He tilted it to left, watched the sleeping elf over it and ever so softly caressed the arch of the bow with the back of his hand.  
  
The moment oozed perfection.  
  
  



	7. Fox Fires

Three weeks of the Marchwarden training passed quickly. Chief Marchwarden Filvendor held many lectures about everything from the history of Marchwardens of Mirkwood, to the situation in Mirkwood forests nowadays. There were lectures about the rules of Marchwardens and how to act correctly in different situations. All of the lectures were held here and there in the wilderness, and every time in between they were assigned to tasks imitating real situations.   
  
The most intriguing thing still was seeing the usage of the Wardens’ Bond. An experienced Marchwarden pair showed some of their signals and how they could use the bond while doing their patrolling. It was like the two elves could read each other’s minds while running through the woods, making Sulrochil wonder if she would ever have the bond with her partner - not every pair get it.  
  
The night before their training would end, and Chief Marchwarden Filvendor would assign the forthcoming pairs, Sulrochil went to talk to Legolas. There had been not much time to get to know anyone well, but he was the only one who had at least been talking to Sulrochil. She knew she could not be paired up with anyone else, it was clear none of the others wanted the undersized lady with eerie abilities as their partner.   
  
She did not believe Legolas wanted it either, but he was the only one who could even be considered for her partner.  
  
“Legolas,” she said, “I have something to tell you. Could you come with me, please?” She nodded her head away from the others, indicating she would like to go out of the hearing range of the others. He followed her in silence far enough that they could talk in private.  
  
“What is it, Sulrochil?” he asked.  
  
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor will assign the pairs tomorrow and he will not pair me up with anyone else, but you. And I need to tell something before that.”  
  
“Alright,” Legolas said concerned, as he failed in reasoning what she would tell.  
  
“I lost my whole army group in one battle thirty years ago,” she looked deeply at his eyes and   
saw him nod - there was no need to elaborate which battle, for he knew that already.   
  
“I was the only one of my group to survive,” she continued. “I am not going to go into details now, but only tell you I got also disabled then.”  
  
“How?” Legolas asked surprised. “I have not noticed any disablement in you.”  
  
“It cannot be anything visible, or they could not have accepted me here, but it is the disablement of my mind. I must sleep every night. The pain, I endure, is too heavy for me to carry without it. I have not been forced to kill anyone since that day, but I fear the killing will affect me more severely than before.”  
  
“Do you mean that killing would hurt your soul so much you cannot manage it at all?”  
  
“I cannot be sure. I hope it is only going to be the need to sleep after killing.”  
  
“I understand you are wounded - many elves are - but I do not understand why you are telling me all this now,” Legolas said.  
  
“Is it not obvious?” Sulrochil sighed. “I am telling this now so that you know it. I almost quit a moment ago without telling you, but I figured out you should know about this. Now when you refuse to accept me as your partner, I will go immediately to Chief Marchwarden Filvendor and quit. I do not want to be a burden, and you can have someone better as your partner.”  
  
“There is no way Chief Marchwarden Filvendor could pair me up with anyone but you.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Sulrochil could not figure out what he was talking about, because in her opinion anyone should be pleased to have someone as strong and fine warrior as Legolas as their Marchwarden partner.  
  
“Every single one of the others are afraid of my title and do not really consider me as their equal. You are the only one, so I guess we are stuck with each other.”  
  
“Alright,” Sulrochil was baffled by his answer. “But you still have a choice to refuse me, after what I said about my past.”  
  
“I appreciate your honesty, but it is not going to change anything.”  
  
“So, do not blame me then,” she said sharply, lifting her gaze at him, “when I will be crashing out under some arbitrary spruce and you are forced to keep watch the whole night.”  
  
“No, I will not blame you,” Legolas said. “You seem to be doing that yourself just fine, but why a spruce?”  
  
“I like them,” Sulrochil shrugged.  
  
“I know that, for you are always covered with so many spruce needles, it seems like you carry half of a forest with you. But why?”  
  
“I do not know. I like the spirit of the spruces; they feel good. Does there really have to be a reason? Why I can not just like them for no reason? I also like the smell of the spruces and the shelter they offer for me. Why do you ask? Does there have to be a reason for everything? Do you have something against the spruces, then?” She was piercing him with her gaze.  
  
“No,” he said smiling. “I have nothing against them. And no reason needed, I was just asking.”  
  
“And you got an answer.”  
  
“That was not an answer, but a thousand questions back.”  
  
“Get used to it.”  
  
“I guess I have no choice,” he smiled, turning to look back at the direction of the others. “We should get back and eat something before Chief puts us again to dash through the woods searching for imagined orcs.”  
  
“I am not hungry, but I guess I can come and keep company while you eat.”  
  
*  
  
The road from Minas Tirith to Lothlorien was long and tedious. The elves rode many days every moment light enough for the horses and rested only the dead of night. Sulrochil rode all the time the next to last, in front of Thannor. Legolas led the group and Sulrochil did not dare to look at him often because every time she saw him, something seemed to have shifted oddly on his demeanour.  
  
She did not want to think more closely about the cause of it, but was satisfied reminiscing her history with Legolas. It was like her mind somehow produced the memories in its own volition.  
  
Her mind went back sixteen years to a sunny day of late September when they were walking on a path somewhere east of Mirkwood. They had been there continuously for two weeks on the assignment, had finished their final task and were going back to the headquarters to report on their findings and their free time was ahead.  
  
“Sulrochil, are you ten feet behind me?” Legolas asked.  
  
“Do not try to fool me that you heard my steps,” Sulrochil replied, walking just in the distance behind him that he had said.  
  
“You know I cannot hear it, but I can sense your location.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Sulrochil stopped walking.  
  
“How can you not sense it?” Legolas said and walked back closer to her. “The Wardens’ Bond is always mutual.”  
  
“Wardens’ Bond?” Sulrochil said, baffled. “We do not have it.”  
  
“We do, as of right now,” Legolas said and got alarmed. “I sense it clearly, but how it is possible you do not?”  
  
Sulrochil closed her eyes, slowly tilted her head to left and when she opened her eyes again, she took a couple of steps back and forth. A wide smile lit her face. “We have it!” she exclaimed and hugged him. When they withdrew from the embrace, both were more than embarrassed. They continued walking on the path and neither mentioned the hug anymore.  
  
“I did not sense it because I was thinking,” she began talking while they walked.  
  
“Thinking?” Legolas asked. “What possibly you could have been thinking that could prevent you from sensing something completely new?”  
  
“I was thinking many things at the same time. First, it is a fine autumn day, in a lovely, peaceful forest and fortunately we have not seen any people in many days. It makes me always happy when I do not have to talk about inessential things with strangers. Second, I heard there were lots of common cranes gathering into a nearby swamp for their move towards south. I am always tuned in to their need to sleep in the wetlands to be safe from predators.   
  
Then, the forest is full of lingonberries and it made me reminisce the tale my mother told me about lingonberries - when they are ripe and red, the sun begins to go to her winter sleep. And it made me miss mother and hum in my mind her favourite song which tells about two trees who grow side by side and have knotted their roots together.   
  
I was also thinking what we should report to Chief when we get to the Headquarters and if I should pay a visit to my cousin afterwards, for I have not seen him in a long time. He said earlier he has some interesting findings in his studies about trees and mushrooms - not that I will understand any of it, but he always wants to tell me about his work. After his parents sailed, he has had no one other than me, for he is even more reclusive than I. And that is alright! He likes it that way.   
  
Then I was wondering why the braid on the left side of your head is slightly lower than the one on right, perhaps it has something to do - “   
  
“I asked what you were thinking right now,” Legolas interrupted her and sighed. “Not what you have been thinking all morning.”  
  
“But I was thinking all that just when you began talking,” she replied and waved her arms, “and I was feeling so many things at the same time and mistook the Wardens’ Bond to the warmth when sun is shining on the right side of my head.”  
  
“Do you mean you were thinking all that at the same time?” Legolas asked. “How is it possible?”  
  
“Is there another way of thinking, then?” she shrugged, and with a quick glance at Legolas she continued. “How about testing how this works?”  
  
Not waiting for the reply, she began running. By pacing faster and slower they tried to discover the features of their bond and it was absolutely fantastic. After a while Legolas asked: “After you have visited your cousin, do you have any other plans?”  
  
“No,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”  
  
“Because I was thinking, if you do not have any other obligations, if you possibly would like to come back to the forest and we could try how this, I mean, our Wardens’ Bond, actually works?”  
  
“I would like that, and I do not even have to meet my cousin. He probably is not even at home, and I can visit him later. The bond feels strange. Strange but good. Or perhaps not good, only strange, because I cannot feel it right yet.”  
  
“I am interested about the range of it,” Legolas said. “And how it can be used for the forthcoming assignments.”  
  
“I cannot use it for anything until I get used to how it makes me feel,” Sulrochil said. “When we are this close, it feels wobbly. Perhaps it will get balanced after a while.”  
  
“How about hurrying quickly to Chief to report and then come back here?”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” she said and they began running quickly towards the Headquarters of the Marchwardens of Mirkwood.  
  
*  
  
Sulrochil’s mind produced memories of their history together while they were riding through wilderness towards Lothlorien, and even though everything in the present day seemed odd, she had an amusing time reminiscing joyous times together, like a morning perhaps nine or ten years ago in the end of December, when they had been doing their Marchwarden patrol somewhere on the northern borders of Mirkwood close to the Grey Mountains. The whole night they had been staying under a thick spruce to not get drowned in snow. In the morning the snowfall had ceased and they got up.  
  
Sulrochil watched the beautiful scenery of mountain full of bright snow bathing in magnificent dawn light. The whole sky waltzed in all shades of pink, from the lightest of red shades like innocent thinflowers swinging in the wind, to the deeper hues of ripe raspberries waiting to be savoured.  
  
The soft silence of a snowy forest was like a caress to her soul - she always preferred the fluffiness of the wintery quiet to the sharp soundlessness of summer. For a split second she thought of her childhood winters when she was a carefree little elfling jumping on soft snow and having snowball fights with her friends. Then she shook her head and got back to reality - with a snowball splashing on her face.   
  
Stifling a laugh she made a couple of snowballs on her own and threw them towards Legolas, at the same time dodging a few upcoming balls, but getting most of his snowballs directly on her face, as she was no match for him in this game. She threw her arms up and shouted “I give up.”  
  
Legolas stopped throwing at once. “You should wipe the snow off your face,” he said smiling, still playfully threatening her with the last ball in his hand.  
  
“You should wipe the grin off your face,” Sulrochil said, removing the snow off her face and shoulders.  
  
“You should learn to throw,” he said, tossing the last ball at a pine trunk behind Sulrochil.  
  
“Why? The snowballs will not help at our duties in the least.”  
  
“It is dull to beat you so easily.”  
  
“We can go to the archery track shooting some arrows, if you prefer losing.”  
  
“That would be wonderful, as always, but the targets are covered under the snow, so even you should realize it would be impossible today,” Legolas said, letting his gaze trace the white mountain tops in the distance. “But this could be a wonderful day for snowboarding.”  
  
“Snowboarding?!” Sulrochil shouted. “Never.”  
  
“You have never done it?” he asked.  
  
“No!” she replied. “I have no interest in putting both of my feet on the same plank and sliding downhill. Besides, we should go back to Chief and tell him something wise and not dash to the mountains for a childish game!”  
  
“Look at the Troll’s Tooth over there,” he pointed towards a peak with a peculiar shape.   
  
“What about it?” she said.  
  
“Do you know the name of the mountain east of it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“That mountain has no name. That is why it is perfect for hiding something special and there was movement on the eastern side, just below the treeline. You did not see it? There is someone over there,” he tilted his head to right, gazed at her wide-eyed, and whispered: “I just _feel_ it in my bones, and do you know what, I bet Chief would _love_ to know what it is. He would, I know it! Oh, I have _never_ been so sure of anything in my _whole_ life!”   
  
“I saw nothing,” she said, smiling at his performance. Did she really look like that when being overly enthusiastic? “And neither did you, but if you _feel_ it so strongly, how could I argue against your inner will. We must go and see if there truly was someone, or if you only foresaw two elves doing something extremely adolescent.”  
  
“I count that as a promise,” he said, and began leading the way. Over his shoulder he added: “You are not allowed to give up anymore.”   
  
“I might if we have to log a tree and carve the silly planks today.”  
  
“Do not call them that. You are offending the feelings of the snowboards I have made by myself.”  
  
“You have made them? When? And for how long they have been lying in the mud and been eaten by worms?”  
  
“You shall see.”  
  
Soon they reached the mountain of no name and climbed uphill. Just when Sulrochil was certain he was only fooling her, they arrived at a small wooden cabin. It was between thick evergreens so it would be impossible to detect from the distance. The door creaked when Legolas pulled it open slowly and scanned the interior closely. “I have not been here for a long time.”  
  
It was small. One narrow bed and a table fitted inside; one chair, nothing much else.  
  
“Mice have been here instead,” Sulrochil said, turning up her nose at the tiny black dots on the floor. “I refuse to touch the plank if there are mice droppings on it.”  
  
“Shh,” he replied, walked towards the back wall on which were stored five thin pieces of wood. He took one of them from the wall. “You might upset the mountain.”   
  
“Is it still intact?” she asked.  
  
“See for yourself,” he said, and threw the board to her. It was a fine piece of woodwork. Even though she would never say it aloud to him, she was not able to hide the admiration in her eyes.  
  
Both took their snowboards, and uphill they went. Legolas told her everything about how to move your body, what to do with your feet, ankles, knees, how to use your arms to stabilize yourself, and when they reached the place he preferred to use as his starting point, he asked:  
  
“Did you listen to any of what I told you?”  
  
“I listened to your every word, but none of it will apply to me,” she sighed, put her feet on the board and patted it. “Fine board, you are. Made of birch. Vibrant, pure birch. With you I can manage this, right?”  
  
Tentatively she moved her ankles slightly to make to board slide sideways on the snow and after a few yards she stopped. Keeping her back towards uphill all the time, she did this a couple of times; until she slid to the other direction, still not turning to face the peak. Slowly she slid downhill, trying to get in tune with the board. Finally, she let the board slide faster, swiftly bent her body and managed to make a successful curve. When she stopped and looked uphill, Legolas jumped on his board. He slid down with a couple of skilful curves - and stopped a few feets above Sulrochil, making the board send a shower of snow on her face.  
  
“I began to think we have stay up here the whole week, as you trail yourself downhill at a snail’s pace,” he said. “But we might get down before dark now when you actually dared to do what it is supposed to do with these things.”  
  
“You forgot, that I still have to learn to turn to the other direction too.”  
  
“The board did not tell you how to do that?” Legolas asked and slid down.  
  
Sulrochil watched his movements as he moved forward, shifting his shoulders visibly before making the turn. He did that a couple of times, until it suddenly seemed he was handling his snowboard with his mind, and not his body. She recalled that he had told her about that earlier, but the words were never enough for her. It was easy to mimic his movements, and when she slid down, she felt the board under her feet was becoming more and more familiar to her. When she reached him close to the cabin, she could return the shower of snow at him when she stopped her slide.  
  
Covered with snow and laughter, they climbed up the mountain several times and slid down. The sky became darker when they decided to climb up one last time. It could never become too dark when the mountainside was full of white snow. When they got up and looked at the sky, it was full of waving green shapes.  
  
“Fox Fires!” Sulrochil whispered, eyes wide open.  
  
“The fox lashes its tail on the snow, making the snow sparkle in the sky,” Legolas smiled, as he recited the old tale of the north.  
  
“I have not seen them in ages!” she said and turned to look at him awed. “They are fluttering, can you see it?” Not waiting for an answer, she continued. “The whole sky is waving in green hues and they stir because there is so much joy in my heart. Do you know what? Today is the first day in two decades, when I have been without pain. Thank you for bringing me here! Never I could have guessed this would be the thing to make me forget my pain for a moment, but it was. I still cannot comprehend how sliding downhill on a plank, could alleviate me for a moment.”  
  
  
“Perhaps it was the novelty of the situation,” Legolas replied, wondering if her feelings could affect the lights on the sky. He doubted it, but she seemed certain.  
  
“Happy New Years, Sulrochil,” he said, thinking that if she believed it, then it was her truth and nothing could convince her otherwise. An enigma, she was. Never could he understand her fully.   
  
“Is it already New Years? I had no idea,” she wondered. “But of course is it if you say so. Happy New Years, Legolas!” Sulrochill watched the northern lights as they danced in the darkness and feeling something new in the depths of her soul. She could not remember how many decades - or perhaps centuries? - it was when she had tried to learn something new, perhaps she should open up her heart and try new things again.  
  
Perhaps today the fox lashed its tail to her soul also and made something sparkle in there.  
  
*  
  
Again Sulrochil was riding from Minas Tirith to Lothlorien as her memory faded. Warmth welled up inside her when she remembered the look on Legolas’ eyes when he had offered to sit with her on the first night of their journey. They had begun their journey a few nights ago. Something in his look made Sulrochil wish to see it again, and shy away from whatever it was at the same time.   
  
That is why it had been fortunate that there had been traces of orcs on the trail they used and Legolas had strengthened their night watch - meaning, naturally, he had ordered watch turns also for himself every night. Sulrochil had slept in her cloak swing for the nights they had been traveling, relieved being alone and felt a huge void inside her at the same time.  
  
If everything went well, they would arrive in Lothlorien tomorrow, but this night they again needed to stay in the forest. Since there had been no traces of orcs in two days, Legolas had decided to resume the initial watch schedule and named three Lorien elves for the watch turns of the night.  
  
“You could order also me to keep watch sometimes,” Sulrochil said when Legolas sat next to her under a tall spruce.  
  
“You will have enough watch turns after Lothlorien, when we will not have the Lorien elves anymore in our group,” Legolas said. “But I will not order you, only ask for you to do it.”  
  
“I do not understand why you insist on that, because you have the right to order me.”  
  
“I do not understand why you insist on that, even though I have said I can not exercise that right on you.”  
  
“Can we talk about anything else?” Sulrochil sighed. “This topic twists my mind.”  
  
“I have been reminiscing our past,” Legolas said.  
  
“You too?” she asked.  
  
“Aye,” he said. “It is only natural we tend to think about our shared past right now.”  
  
“You mean because we have been separated for half a year?”  
  
“Have you been reminiscing anything specific?” Legolas asked avoiding her question.  
  
“Well, many things but the last memory was the first time we went snowboarding,” she said. “It was a joyous day.”  
  
“That was the first time when we did something that was not even remotely connected to our duties or practising.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And you were happy,” he said. “We could go to the cabin when we get home.”  
  
“But there is no snow.”  
  
“No, but there is a special spot near the cabin I want to show you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It is tranquil and it always pulls me back. I found it when I was young and I have returned there almost every year.”  
  
“And you want to take me there?”  
  
Sulrochil turned to look at him and when he nodded, his eyes were ablaze with something that was very powerful and at the same time, so soft that it made her soul shiver, making her turn her eyes away at once.  
  
“Please, do not fight against it,” Legolas said gently.  
  
“Against what?” Sulrochil asked, scanning intensely the fallen spruce needles on the ground and poking them with her forefinger into two piles.  
  
“Against whatever there is,” Legolas said vaguely, because there was no way he could name ‘it’ for her, if she did not feel it herself yet. “Please, do not deny it from yourself.” In his mind he added ‘and from me’, and while his heart ached to say it aloud to her, he could not do it until she felt it herself.  
  
“This is all so confusing,” Sulrochil said, “Tomorrow we will reach Lothlorien and I wish the respite and beatitude will bring some light for me. But I need to sleep now, should I climb a tree?”  
  
“No,” Legolas said, touching the sides of her fingers with his own, making her pull away from his sudden touch and causing the spruce needle piles of hers to fall haphazardly all over the ground.  
  
“Why did you do that?” Sulrochil asked, looking at the spruce needles lying higgledy piggledy on the ground.  
  
“I am sorry, I did not mean to alert you,” Legolas asked helping her to move the needles - this time into one neat pile.  
  
“I meant why you touched me in the first place.”  
  
“I like it,” Legolas touched her finger again.  
  
“Why?” Sulrochil did not shy away this time, letting her fingers feel his warmth.  
  
“How does my touch feel? Is it bad?” Legolas took his hand away from her.  
  
“No, only surprising and mind-boggling.” Sulrochil looked at her hand in disbelief. “But I do not understand anything about this.”  
  
“There is no need to understand anything,” Legolas whispered. “Only feel it. The only thing you need to do is to stop fighting against it.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I do not know. You must find the way yourself. All I know is that you must sleep and I am going to sit here with you all night. Will you let me do it?”  
  
“Why are you doing this?” she asked  
  
“It feels right,” he replied.  
  
“It is confusing.”  
  
“I know. Will you let me be with you here?”  
  
  
“I will. Your closeness brings me safety,” she said shyly.  
  
“Good. It is meant to be that way.”  
  
“But I am supposed to be an able warrior and not some defenceless weakling seeking the protection of the others.”  
  
“We both know,” he said, “you are strong, competent and fully capable of defending yourself. You are not seeking the protection of anyone, you are seeking a protection only I can offer you.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?”  
  
  
“You need to find the answer on your own. The answer is simple, you just need to stop fighting against it.”  
  
“You keep telling me that.”  
  
  
“I will keep telling you that until there is no more need to say it. I will not give up on this.” Legolas would have wanted to add ‘I will not give up on you’, but decided it would be too much. He had a feeling he had already said too much to her, but it was so hard to see her struggle and not do anything.  
  
  
Sulrochil lifted her eyes to his and was surprised to find the look in them brought no more confusion for her, but something that slowly began to feel right. Smiling weakly she put her weapons onto the ground lying down on her right side. Only after she had closed her eyes, she realized her back was about an inch away from Legolas’ thigh, but she had no time to get worried about it anymore when she began falling asleep - having the all too familiar horrendous vision she had every night. She did not mean to do it, but she leant her back against him and his warmth made her feeling at once safeguarded.  
  
Somewhere in the deepest corner of her mind she felt there was a strong hand on her shoulder shielding against the worst sting brought by the vision.  
  
*  
  
It should have been the happiest day of their lives, the day of coronation. What he saw in her when he turned around in the morning, was world-shattering, but, to mention any of it there in front of all people, would have been impossible.   
  
All day he had waited for the moment they could leave the ceremony and talk. He had sensed her every movement during the day, walking behind him during the ceremony, sitting in a corner of the Great Hall, going to the balcony with Gimli, and sneaking away from the celebration at the very first moment she could. Each step further from him had made him more anxious and then she had disappeared from the range totally. The sly look on the face of the dwarf had informed he knew of her whereabouts, but the elf had not needed to ask. Sulrochil’s ever-present need to draw strength from the trees made it easy to guess where she had went.   
  
Warmness had filled his heart at night when he had pictured her sitting on a tree branch and leaning her face onto the trunk. She would have closed her eyes, pressed her nose and lips against the bark and inhaled the scent of her soul tree. Stars would have looked down at her and when she would have opened her eyes, they would have shone greenness brighter than the forest because of the feeling he believed they would be sharing.  
  
She had come back to the city and locked herself in her room before Legolas could leave the celebrations, but he had not been worried. He would go and see her the first thing in the morning, when he would sense her begin puttering around in her room and they could settle things before going to get their horses and meet the others.  
  
Their eyes would have met and a shy smile would have crept on their lips when the beauty of it would have filled their hearts. There would have been no need for words, yet. The words would have come later, they always would. The sparkle in each other’s eyes would have brought them the certainty they needed. Only after a while, when their hearts would have been settled to the transfiguration of their beings, would they have been able to try to find words for it.  
  
It should have been like that; it always was. Almost always. Because for elves it either is there, or it is not. There are no other possibilities, no alternatives, no gradual shifts, because before _it_ , they are nothing but two independent elves, living separate lives. Aye, they would be friends; good friends, the best of friends, but nothing more - the friends’ hearts are not entwined around each other and their souls are not knotted together eternally. The elves would lead their lives as friends, until one breathtaking instant everything would change, throwing them into the unknown, leaving them to trying to redefine themselves in the new era.   
  
That did not happen, though.  
  
She did not feel it, yet. It was not unheard of that the elves would not realize it at the same moment. Occasionally it happened, he had heard of some situations. All her life she had refused even the thought of it; her soul was in denial. The willingness to accept the beauty of _it_ in her soul had been shattered in her youth - and her soul needed safety in order to dare to welcome the ultimate gift elves can receive. Never had she wanted it; never would she wish for it, and her heart persistently clutched on this belief.  
  
Still, _it_ was there and it was only a matter of time when she would feel it truly.   
  
Nevertheless, she did not realize it now at all. Right now she believed things that were false, but he could not tell her the truth. At the moment he could not utter a word to her about what he felt in his heart. Speaking of it would be wrong in every way. Either she would not believe him, or if she did, she would be frightened and believe something was wrong with her. Either way, it would be wrong.  
  
All he could do was wait. Wait until she would feel it. No matter how long it would take.  
  
Her heart was still asleep, and he would need to awaken it. How to do it, he did not know. Never had he believed to face a challenge like this. He thrived on challenges, but how to conquer her heart, was unknown. He could think of myriads of serendipitous ways how _this_ could have happened. In a heavy rain all soaked up, up on the highest mountain under a starry sky, or even in the middle of a battle under a siege, but always simultaneously - never he had anticipated he should have to paddle to the isolated island her heart was at the moment. All her life she had separated her from the possibility of _this_ , and now to make her open the gates around her heart, was the biggest challenge he ever had faced.  
  
She was far from feeling it, too far. At the opposite end. At the most remote corner of the world.   
  
Actually, it was not only a matter of time; she could die before she would truly accept it in her heart, or she could reject it. Both possibilities terrified him, the latter even more, because, even though he could not think of anything that could happen and make her disown him, this was Sulrochil, whose spirit was more unpredictable than the weather in springtime.  
  
It was like she was wearing an armour shielding her heart, he needed to persuade her to drop it. She needed safety to dare to do it, safety only he could give her. He should be the armour around her heart against all evil.


	8. Formidable Obstacles

When the first rays of the sun reached Sulrochil’s eyes at dawn, annoyance filled her soul. She sat up on her sleeping mat and watched the beautiful scenery of Lothlorien, but the fair elegance of it could not prevent the fury rising in her mind.   
  
The contrast to the last morning was too sharp.  
  
Noises of other elves flowed into her ears, adding to her anger. Of course, the muffled sounds were not as loud as they had been in the crowded city of the men, but the contrast between this and the peace of the forest of last night was too high. The memory of Minas Tirith brought the whole disastrous day of the coronation and the sheer rudeness of Legolas back to her, making her see red.   
  
Not red  - gold.   
  
The image of that golden crown of his surrounded her and not even an insistent scowl would make the vision leave her alone.  
  
This morning she woke up alone, frustrated, and she hated herself being so dependent on him. Yesterday they had ridden towards Lothlorien, and all day she had anxiously waited for the evening when she could talk to Legolas to get some clarity in the havoc in her mind - but that did not happen.  
  
Her outrage overpoured when she realized even her memories came in the wrong order. But the contrast between this morning and yesterday morning was deep, making everything foggy.  
  
She forced herself to reminisce yesterday morning when she woke up to the sound of a gushing rain under the thick spruce where she had spent the night. Smiling to herself, she recalled her dream of a vast forest which expanded to everywhere her eyesight could reach, and far beyond that. It felt like a sanctuary; she could live in a forest like that forever. But what made her smile was the realization that she had a pleasant dream - she had not had those in decades.  
  
The trees enjoyed her presence in their territory and hummed softly while she crawled out of her hiding place. She saw tiny shoots of meadowsweets trying to reach the sky all over the forest. When the raindrops began battering her, she could inhale the lovely smell of the refreshening rainfall.  
  
Then, she was met by a sight of an elf with two horses.   
  
“I brushed Baraniel,” Legolas said, sliding his palm slowly on the neck of Sulrochil’s mare. “She had nothing against it, and I can only wish you do not either.”  
  
“No,” Sulrochil mumbled, watching the horse’s coat waving under the touch of his hand, and walked closer to him. When she reached to pat Baraniel, their fingers brushed briefly, flooding her with a warm feeling in her heart. The earth seemed to shatter under her feet. “Thank you,” was the only thing she was able to say.  
  
“We must hurry,” he said. “They are waiting for us.”  
  
Everything seemed strange, Sulrochil thought, when she had to bend her neck in a sharp angle to look up at Legolas. Had he always been this tall? And when he said the word ‘us’ did he say it in a different way than the rest of the sentence, or was it only her imagination?  
  
She jumped onto her horse, brushed the needles off her clothing and let Legolas lead the way to the other elves. In the rain they rode the whole day, until almost midnight when they finally reached Lothlorien, all soaked up.  
  
After both Mirkwood and Lothlorien embassies gave the greetings from the coronation to Lady Galadriel, all Lorien elves headed home, three other Mirkwood messengers headed to visit relatives - and Lady Galadriel appointed Legolas to provide her with answers to her inquiries about the destruction of the Ring, Sulrochil had been the only one left. She asked for her friend Eiliandes, but was informed she was unavailable, doing her duties as a Marchwarden.  
  
Sulrochil was greeted with friendly hospitality; a place to sleep and eat, an offer to borrow dry clothes for the night, a simple dinner with a company of kind elves - kind but unfamiliar to her. When she realized she would have to be alone with them, she had politely declined and hid herself in her lodgings, certain she would not be seeing a trace of Legolas anymore tonight.  
  
For a long time she sat awake on the mat feeling the contrast between the last night spent in a friendly forest and this first night in Lothlorien, which was enchanting in its own way with the tranquil atmosphere and the multitude of enticing stairways here and there, leading into enrapturing solitude. But she did not need any of that. The only thing she wished for was the company of a certain elf who was occupied elsewhere.  
  
Sulrochil missed Legolas, she could admit that. Her heart ached to talk with him, but that was impossible. After they had left Minas Tirith everything was strange, and tonight she would have needed him, but that was not an option because they were of different worlds.  
  
Her anger grew by the moment and finally when the morning came, she was beyond furious.  
  
She walked a short distance to the tent in which she and all other guests from Mirkwood could eat. The food was not the primary matter in her mind right now, though, but she sensed Legolas was there and - first things first - she wanted to make him hear what was on her mind this morning.  
  
There were no one else in the tent, except Legolas. He was standing by the table pouring steaming water to a mug and when he turned to look at Sulrochil he said while smiling:  
“Good morning, Sulrochil. I made peppermint tea for you.”  
  
“I am fully capable of pouring myself a cup of tea, thank you very much!” she replied, bitterness lacing her voice.  
  
“What has got into you today?” he said lowering the cup onto the table.  
  
“Are you trying to imply you have no idea of it?” Sulrochil scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
“I am tired of your guessing games,” Legolas sighed, “if something is wrong, just say it!”  
  
“If you are tired of my company,” Sulrochil said pointing her finger to the doorway, “please, feel free to go, and search someone who is suitable company for you.”  
  
“I choose you. Every time I choose you!”   
  
“Not last night. I needed to talk to you but naturally you were doing something else!”  
  
“You cannot blame me for that, for it was my obligation to share the information I had.”  
  
“What I mean is that you are the Prince of Mirkwood, having royal obligations, and I can never be a part of that world! You are with me only when it suits you. It feels like you are only using me when there is no one better available.”  
  
“Using you?” Legolas’ voice raised a bit. “That was way out of line!”  
  
“It feels like that when I am always the second choice!” Sulrochil yelled.  
  
“You are nothing like that, and you know it!” he replied trying to keep his tone neutral, but failing miserably.  
  
“For thirty years we have been scouting together,” she continued, “most of the time all by ourselves, and never I felt out of the place. I have always enjoyed your company. But now when we meet other people together, I feel all the time that I cannot fit into your world. Someone else is always better than me.”  
  
“You really do have a way with your words! ‘Someone else better than you?’ Do you see me going away searching for _someone else_ now, even if you are throwing your daggers at me?”  
  
“If you want to go away, then go! The door is over there!” she shouted.  
  
“I asked if you see me going away,” Legolas said, rooting his feet to the ground and glowering at her. “What do you see? Am I going away or not?”  
  
Sulrochil did not reply, only wrinkled her nose at him.  
  
“The tea I made for you is over there,” he said, waving in the right direction and sat down at the table. “You can either drink it or pour yourself another mug ‘which you are fully capable of doing, thank you very much’.”  
  
The mug glared at her on the table, it sneered at her stupidity and stubbornness. Finally Sulrochil had to relent and grab the mug. She sat at the table, and for a long time neither said anything.  
  
“Do you have any obligations or plans for today?” she asked quietly, looking at her mug, but still not drinking the tea.  
  
“No plans,” he replied, “and the only obligation I have, is to be the target of your anger.”  
  
“It is hard to feel always being the second choice.”  
  
“What do you need me to say to convince you otherwise?”  
  
“You can say whatever you wish.”  
  
“No words will be ever enough, I realize,” he said. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to spend today with you?”  
  
“I would believe you wished to spend _today_ with me, nothing more.”  
  
“That is a start,” he said. “So if you do not have any plans, would you like to spend the day with me?”  
  
“Doing what?” Surlochil asked and finally turned to look at him.  
  
“I really do not care,” Legolas replied, and saw she had calmed down, so he dared to say: “Perhaps we could sit here bickering, or would you prefer us to climb a tree and continue the quarrel there?”  
  
“I missed you last night,” she sighed, “I have been feeling strange lately and I wanted to talk to you, and when you were unavailable, I felt conflicted.”  
  
“We could talk about that today,” Legolas said and looked gently at her eyes.  
  
Regret filled Sulrochil’s whole being when she managed to utter the words which had been in her mind for a moment. “Can you please forgive me? I said things I should not have said, again.”  
  
“I forgive you, again,” Legolas said. “Again and again, because I have no choice. Now are you going to drink the tea, or throw it into the bush because it was made by me?”  
  
“Do you know you have the choice?” she said and began to drink the tea, “You could just sometimes tell me ‘that was the last straw’ and walk away.”  
  
“When do you realize I do not have the choice? I do not want to walk away,” he said, his eyes blazing at the same time like the tempest of a hailstorm and the heat of a sizzling summer, “Whatever is in your mind, I want to hear it. Whatever is gnawing your soul, I am here to share it with you. Whatever obstacles there are in your heart, I am willing to help you overcome them.”  
  
Sulrochil did not know how to answer him and felt relief when they heard two people approaching the tent. Two elves, one female and one male, entered the tent, both wearing the usual clothing of the Marchwardens of Lothlorien.  
  
“Eiliandes!” Sulrochil exclaimed, and jumped from her chair to hug the female elf warmly. “I was wondering if I could see you today!” Sulrochil was overjoyed that they had arrived, because she was so lost with all the feelings clouding her soul. Visitors were a proper distraction.  
  
“How delightful to see you, Sulrochil,” Eiliandes smiled. “It has been a long time since we last met.”  
  
“Aye, it has been too long,” Sulrochil withdrew from the hug and bowed politely to the male elf, “My pleasure to meet you too, Glawaron.”  
  
Both Eiliandes and Glawaron turned to look at Legolas curiously and he rose up.  
  
“This is Legolas,” Sulrochil said and waved her hand in his direction, “you may also have heard some other titles for him, but I prefer calling him my Marchwarden partner. And Legolas, these are Eiliandes and Glawaron.”  
  
Legolas saw that the others seemed nonplussed and said: “I greet you Eiliandes and Glawaron. Sulrochil is right, you may forget the other titles, for this is not an official meeting.”  
  
All three of them bowed and greeted each other.  
  
“Sulrochil, you said in your letter that you are nowadays a Marchwarden,” Eiliandes said, looking at both Mirkwood elves in turn, “and we have heard rumours also that Legolas is a Marchwarden of Mirkwood, but never in a million years we would have guessed you two form a pair!”  
  
“Why not?” Sulrochil asked. “They had to pair me up with the strongest to compensate my weakness.”  
  
“That was not the real reason,” Legolas said, smiling, “I was the only one who could tolerate your whims.”  
  
“That,” she replied also smiling, “might very well be the truth.”  
  
“We came here because we have two requests for you,” Glawaron said glancing at his wife and  sharing a knowing look, “First, could we, I and Eiliandes, join the Mirkwood embassy on your journey to Mirkwood? We wish to visit relatives there, and I hope our presence in your company will not be too much trouble.”  
  
"I am most pleased to hear this," Legolas said. "Having two Lorien Marchwardens amongst us, will be fortunate, as the woods are still not safe. We will leave tomorrow at dawn, and you are welcome to join us. You spoke about two requests, may I ask what is the another?"  
  
“The war is over,” Glawaron said, “and to celebrate it we have renovated our competition track for Marchwardens. The track includes both archery and other warrior skills; I believe you have a similar one in Mirkwood. In our track, four warriors can compete at the same time and we wanted to ask you, Legolas, if you could attend a competition today with one other representative from Mirkwood. The people of Lothlorien are waiting anxiously for the competition of two Marchwardens of ours against two representatives of Mirkwood.”  
  
Legolas was immediately excited about this and turned to look at Sulrochil, who nodded. He answered: “Thank you for inviting us to compete in your track. We accept your kind request and will attend to the competition. Since this track is for Marchwardens, I suggest the other our competitor be Sulrochil. When will the event take place? And who are the Lothlorien competitors, if I may ask.”  
  
“The competition will be today in the afternoon. And I will be racing with you, because this was my idea,” Glawaron said. “We had thought our other competitor would be Saeledhel, but now that Sulrochil is in the game, it would be proper if we could also have one of our ladies competing.”  
  
“Could you, Eiliandes, join the game?” Sulrochil asked.  
  
“I will not participate in the same competition as my husband,” Eiliandes replied, “that would not be appropriate.”  
  
“This is going to be difficult,” Glawaron said. “None of the female Marchwardens are keen on competing, I am afraid.”  
  
“I can always opt out, if my participation is a problem.” Sulrochil said, “Then you can have four male competitors. I am sure either Maegorodon or Thannor would gladly represent Mirkwood.”  
  
“No,” Glawaron replied, “I believe we can find a solution here. If we do not find anyone willing, our Chief Marchwarden can always order someone. And I believe he would choose our newest recruit, since she has never participated in a competition on the track.”  
  
“We cannot force her to participate!” Eiliandes exclaimed, “That would not be proper either!”  
  
“Why not?” Glawaron asked.  
  
“I am certain Tauriel would not wish to compete against her former kingdom and, in addition to that-“  
  
“Tauriel of Mirkwood?” Legolas asked, interrupting Eiliandes, “Is she here?”  
  
“Tauriel of Lothlorien, nowadays,” Eiliandes replied, “She has been here almost two years.”  
  
“What?” Legolas said, perplexed. “Do you mean she was here when I was here last with the fellowship? Why did she not come to talk to me then? Where has she been the six decades before she came here?”  
  
“We cannot answer your questions,” Glawaron said, “You must ask her yourself when you meet her.”  
  
“Where can I find her?” Legolas asked.  
  
“Right now she is doing her Marchwarden duties. She will return in the afternoon in time for the competition.”  
  
“But we will not force her to compete!” Eiliandes insisted, “We can ask her and if she willingly attends, then so be it, but if not, I will compete instead!”  
  
“Alright,” Glawaron relented, “We will not force her. Now I suggest we all go to the course so you can see it for yourselves and we can set up the rules.”  
  
All four walked through a wide path and arrived at a huge clearing. The sight of the obstacle course was fabulous. In the middle there was an archery track with several shooting lines. It was circled by a complicated track which consisted of different obstacles made mainly of wood and ropes. There were fences, climbing ropes, pipes, bridges, and other structures of which the purpose was impossible to determine at this distance. The surrounding trees had several platforms for the audience. It was the perfect arena for warrior contests.  
  
“What do you think, is this a good idea?” Legolas asked quietly to Sulrochil.  
  
“It will be fun. I will lose anyway, but it will still be fun. Climb ropes, crawl in pipes and run like there is a thousand orcs after us,” she said, “It has been too long since we have had a possibility for this kind of a game.”  
  
“You are right. The Mirkwood track was ruined badly in an orc attack.”  
  
Glawaron had of course overheard their conversation and said: “Now we should walk through the track, and after that Sulrochil may decide how many arrows we will shoot. Please, this way,” Glawaron said, and went to the beginning of the track. First they had to climb ropes up to the first bridge. There were four ropes, and there would be similar obstacles all the time so that the competitors could go through the track at the same time.  
  
The elves arrived back to the archery track, and Sulrochil said immediately: “We all should have 25 arrows in our quivers and 25 extra arrows lying randomly at each archery track. Total amount of arrows will be 50, for each. Is that acceptable?”  
  
“Lying randomly?” Glawaron asked.  
  
“She is much shorter than the other competitors - regardless of whether Eiliandes or Tauriel is competing - so that will give her a bit of an advantage when we have to pick the arrows up from the ground,” Legolas explained.   
  
“I see,” Glawaron said, contemplating the idea, “We will do as she said. Everybody can choose 25 of their own arrows for their quiver, and the random ones will be similar for all of us. Is that a good idea?”  
  
“That sounds brilliant,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“You can practise freely on the track before the competition,” Glawaron said.  
  
At once, Sulrochil tapped Legolas on the shoulder and ran to the track again. With Glawaron and Eiliandes they had really walked through it, but now she wanted to race. Of course, he was in, and ran to the rope next to her to begin climbing.  
  
Glawaron and Eiliandes stayed near the starting point, and watched as the two other elves dashed through the track; up and down ropes and slides, climb over walls and crawl in pipes.   
  
Until they stopped behind a very high wall.   
  
Sulrochil stood beside the wall with her arm up, and still the top was almost five feet above her hand. They saw her try again, approaching, jumping and failing. Legolas was trying to approximate the best takeoff point for her jump, and showed a spot on the ground for her on which she should jump. She tried again, and failed. The wall seemed too high for her.  
  
“What will happen if she is unable to climb over that wall?” Glawaron asked.  
  
“Sulrochil would grow wings, if she did not get over it otherwise,” Eiliandes replied.  
  
“Legolas seems like he could help her, but naturally can not do it at the actual competition, as the rules forbid it.”  
  
“He definitely would help her, but she would refuse it. More likely it will be those wings for her.”  
  
“True,” Glawaron replied lamely, as they watched Sulrochil trying, and failing yet again.  
  
Sulrochil failed again and yelled at Legolas. He grabbed her by the shoulders. Watching deeply in her eyes, he said something Glawaron and Eiliandes could not hear. Sulrochil calmed down with his actions.  
  
“Are you seeing the same thing I am seeing?” Eiliandes asked after a while.  
  
“Aye. It is not hard to see,” Glawaron replied, “I told you we should not have listened to the rumours.”  
  
“It was hard not to listen, no matter how rude they were.”  
  
“The whole of Mirkwood had been waiting for something that never existed.”  
  
“Legolas and Tauriel had been quite close, so you cannot blame the people.”  
  
“I can,” Glawaron said, “because you are not supposed to think anything about them before they announce their betrothal! Did you hear the announcement? No, because it never happened!”  
  
“What do you think truly happened 60 years ago?” Eiliandes contemplated. “You know Tauriel refuses to tell us anything, except that she had to leave Mirkwood after The Battle of Five Armies, because she could not live there anymore. And since Legolas had disappeared on exactly the same day, the rumours grew.”  
  
“Could you finally stop dwelling on this! We do not know what happened, and we should not think about this at all,” Glawaron said.  
  
“This is so confusing,” EIliandes pondered, “No one knows what took place on that day. It is obvious Tauriel is mourning for lost love, and her whole being is full of grief after all these years, even though she does not tell us the details. There had been a mountain full of dead enemies, dead dwarves and a few dead elves too, but since there had not been a funeral for neither Legolas nor Tauriel, it became soon evident they had not died, but disappeared, and the King had been even more rancorous than usually. What can you think about that?”  
  
“I do not know, and it is not our place to even think about this. We still do not know what happened to Tauriel, but now, seeing those two together, it is clear it had nothing to do with Legolas, like they insisted. There never could have been anything between them. We can stop this ugly discussion and Tauriel can compete today.”  
  
“You are right,” Eiliandes replied, “Her participation in the contest will not be a problem at all. And I promise not to think about this anymore.”  
  
Next, Legolas showed Sulrochil two strides, first longer and the last one a bit shorter, and then he stopped, swinging his arms up and reminded her how the foot must be flat on the ground on takeoff. Sulrochil froze for a moment, gazing at his arms, until she shook her head and tried again - and failed again.  
  
“They are so cute together,” Eiliandes said wistfully.  
  
“Cute?” Glawaron was nettled. “I suggest not saying that when Legolas is within hearing range. He might not be amused by your choice of words.”  
  
“Of course not. I am not a fool, but just look at them,” Eiliandes said, and waved her arm towards the couple who were trying to tackle the lofty wall in front of them. Would the fiendish obstacle be impossible for them or could they manage to get over it?  
  
“Do you know what, Eiliambes,” Glawaron looked tenderly at his wife. “When I will be on there, racing with them at the afternoon, you should keep your feelings in control and not annoy me with cooing.”  
  
“Do not worry, Glawarben. When you will be out there racing with them, all I do is watch you.”  
  
“Good.”              _(-bes=wive, -ben=husband)_  
  
Then Sulrochil tried again. She looked at the forest, inhaled deeply and, not looking at Legolas, began her try. She approached, did the asked two last strides, first longer and the second shorter, and jumped. Now her hands actually brushed the top of the wall, but she could not get a grip on the wall. Still, it was her best try this far.  
  
Again she tried and this time she grabbed the top of the wall and once she got a grip, dragged herself over the wall. Legolas was visibly relieved and followed her easily.  
  
“I knew she would get over it,” Eiliandes said after a while, “And my guess is that Legolas is more relieved by it than she herself.”  
  
“You are right about that. She seems to be quite the handful,” Glawaron replied.  
  
“Aye, and he seems to be enjoying every minute,” Eiliandes said, and they both began laughing.  
  
“What is so amusing?” Sulrochil shouted from the last obstacle.  
  
“Nothing,” Eiliandes replied between her laughs.  
  
“Are you laughing at me trying to get over that wall meant for giants?” Sulrochil said.  
  
“No. Not at you. We would never dare to laugh at you,” Glawaron said also with mirth.  
  
“No. Never,” echoed Eiliandes.  
  
“So, what is it then,” she walked to them piercing them both with her eyes, her hands at her hips. Behind her walked Legolas who had a long-suffering expression on his face and when Glawaron and Eiliandes glanced at him, they laughed even more.  
  
Legolas came to stand next to Sulrochil and said: “Let them laugh at who knows what. I want a proper race now that you actually know how to jump.”  
  
“I know how to jump, the wall is just meant for giants,” she snapped turning to look at him.  
  
  
“No, it is not. You are just as tiny as a honeybee,” he said and began running towards the first climbing ropes. She ran after him and did not hear Eiliandes anymore saying:  
  
“Aye, tiny as a honeybee, and also stings like one.”


	9. Sapphire Light

A few hawthorn bushes were growing in the shade of the Lothlorien woods, and Sulrochil was delighted to see the tiniest green shoots filling their delicate branches. After she had practised enough with Legolas in the competition course, they had sat side by side on the ground, leaning their backs to the high wall. The scent of the freshness of the forest filled her senses, as she felt she was truly sheltered from the wickedness of the outside world. The melodic voices of the starlings searching for food above the forest, brought a gratifying smile to her lips.  
  
It would not be long until the summer truly would be here, and she recalled a hidden lake southeast from Mirkwood, safely surrounded by dense alders and meadowsweets. Every summer on the hottest day she went there swimming. She had named it Swan Lake, for many times she had seen there a swan couple with a brood of adorable swanlings trailing in their wake.  
  
The anticipation of the heated days of July filled her mind; the warmth of the sunshine caressing all of her body, swimming in the secret lake in the middle of the deep woods, diving languidly to and fro underwater until she would be light-headed. When she finally would reach the shore, it would be all she could do to down lie flat, thoroughly wet, and exhausted, in the tender embrace of the greenness of the forest.  
  
There was something so earth-shatteringly odd in her daydream. It was so profoundly strange it made her swallow - it was like she had not been alone by the lake. There had been another being smoothly gliding underwater with her, even though she had not seen anyone.  
  
The dizzying scent of the blooming creamy meadowsweets lingered in the forest.  
  
“This is very blissful,” Legolas sighed, waking her up from her reverie. “I always enjoy being in Lothlorien. This place brings me joy and peace.”  
  
“I suppose it does,” Sulrochil replied, trying to shrug the strange feeling off. “Also, the forests of Ithilien seemed magnificent.” She had no idea why that thought had popped into her mind, but at least it had lead her out of the serpentine maze created by the vision of the torrid heat of the summertime.  
  
“There was some damage left by the orcs here and there,” Legolas said.  
  
“Aye, but the damage had not ruined the whole area; there still was purity in those woods. I would like to go back sometime, and I know Rhawon would be thrilled to see those forests.”  
  
“You said in Minas Tirith that you had learnt something from your cousin. I did not ask it then, but now I would like to hear about what he, in fact, taught you.”  
  
“He has always taught me a lot about trees and forests,” Sulrochil began, “He says the trees form a union which could be called a village. I do not understand how, but that is what he said. The trees can be friends with each other, and they help the others if there is, for example, a cold winter or hot summer.” Sulrochil was flushed by the burning images of her previous vision and she felt the warmth of Legolas on her body, but did not let it stop her story. “The trees have allies and enemies, like elves. They form relationships, like us. They can love and hate like elves, but they try to seek equilibrium, like us. We call the equilibrium a forest, but in their minds it could be called a village. Each tree has a spirit and they can talk to each other, but this you already know. They can warn each other of danger, but you know that also. Why am I telling you all this that you already know? They also help each other after severe storms, no matter how serious the damage is that the storms cause - but you already know that.”  
  
“I have seen enough storms in my lifetime, so of course I know that,” Legolas replied and continued in mirth, “and somehow there have been a lot more storms in these last thirty years than ever before.”  
  
“You are not taking me seriously,” Sulrochil humphed.  
  
“No, because you really only told me about matters that every wood elf knows. What is the new part Rhawon taught you?”  
  
“I am not sure what made me babble all that, even though you know most of it,” Sulrochil was feeling strange because of her earlier thoughts. Or in fact she had been feeling strange since her arrival in Minas Tirith. “The new thing Rhawon told me, is that he has been studying a forest which has suffered a severe storm five hundred years ago and there has been a lot of fallen trees whose roots are partly severed. He has been experimenting there and has found out that the trees use their roots for communication. He also said the mushrooms have some importance in the life and communication of the trees.”  
  
“Mushrooms?” Legolas turned to look at Sulrochil, intrigued. “That sounds interesting. Interesting, but strange.”  
  
“It sounds peculiar for me, but that is what he said, and he has been studying this for centuries.”  
  
“I really would like to meet him and get to know more about his studies.”  
  
“You do not believe me.”  
  
“I do believe you but I would like to learn more about this. Can you explain more to me?”  
  
“Well, I - ,” Sulrochil paused and furrowed her brow. “I did listen to Rhawon, and I tried to memorize everything he said, but I am afraid I cannot explain it well.”  
  
“I guessed that already,” he said. “You explaining to me, in detail, how mushrooms would function in transmitting information between the trees, and how the trees would use their roots as their means of communication, sounds altogether nonsensical.”  
  
Sulrochil pouted, “You think I am some harebrained fool.”  
  
“Of course not,” Legolas said fondly. “You just experience everything with your soul. You feel the spirit of the trees, the forest, and everything in nature. You need to feel things and you also know yourself that you are not meant to consider how their structures work. Besides, I like rabbits, and especially cute, fluffy bunnies bouncing gaily here and there.”  
  
“I might get angry if you continue that.”  
  
“That would be nothing new. There has been almost an hour since your last meltdown and I already have been wondering -”  
  
“Do you always need to remind me about that?”  
  
“You said it yourself first.”  
  
“Oh, did I?” she smiled.  
  
“Your mind works in ways that are incomprehensible for me, and I guess it must be sometimes complicated even for you to understand yourself.”  
  
“Not sometimes, but always,” she stated. “I really tried to remember everything Rhawon taught me, but it was so difficult when my mind kept telling me that the trees talk to each other like us. What could the mushrooms have to do with their communication?”  
  
“It is not the visible mushrooms, but the threads underground. They are mingling with the tree roots, and it could be possible that they actually would help the trees communicate, but I really would like to talk about this with your cousin.”  
  
“And not with me,” Sulrochil laughed.  
  
“Indeed, not with you,” Legolas also began to laugh. “Did you really believe visible mushrooms would have something to do with it?”  
  
“No!” Sulrochil laughed even more. “Well, perhaps I did.”  
  
“You did!” Legolas punched softly her shoulder. “You pictured sneaky, little mushrooms jumping all around in the forest revealing the secrets of the pines to the spruces.” He bounced his hands up and down, like the mushrooms were jumping all around the forest.  
  
“Stop that,” Sulrochil said between her laughs. “I was not thinking anything.”  
  
“That,” Legolas said, chuckling, “I believe easily.”  
  
It took some time until they could finally stop laughing. The image of jumping mushrooms was so hilarious, and especially the fact that neither of them could be quite sure if Sulrochil actually had believed that.  
  
“Sulrochil, you are perfect,” Legolas said, turning to look at her with eyes overflowing with fondness. “You are amazing and I -” He stopped himself in the middle of his sentence, and Sulrochil saw a series of expressions changing on his face. First he was shocked, then disappointed, annoyed, frustrated, then he seemed to be gathering patience, until he leant his head back towards the wall behind them, sighing heavily.  
  
“What is it, Legolas?” Sulrochil said, looking at him worriedly. “What were you going to say?”  
  
“I cannot say it to you now,” he replied quietly, looking at the forest. “I promise, though, I will say it to you later.”  
  
“Alright,” Sulrochil said, although she could not fathom the meaning of his words.  
  
“I believe I know the forest your cousin has been studying,” Legolas said in a quiet voice, wishing to change the topic. He did not want to think about what he had almost said to Sulrochil. “I have walked through it many times, and I always noticed something had been changed during the centuries, clearly elven-made changes, but I have never encountered him there.”  
  
“Still, it is possible he has been there hiding somewhere. He is not the kind of person who would like to talk with people without a good reason.”  
  
“Of course, he could have been there without me noticing him. Does he know how to use weapons at all?” Legolas asked a meaningless question, still trying to banish the previous matter from his mind.  
  
“He is a wonderful archer, but will aim only at a target. He has a small knife, but he uses that only for gathering food or whatever he needs to do for his study.”  
  
“Has he ever killed even an animal?”  
  
“No,” she said. “He does not eat meat and he will not eat even a plant if it means killing the plant.”  
  
“I really want to meet him someday. I have heard there are elves like him, but I have never met one myself. If he would like to meet me, that is.”  
  
“Why he would not want to meet you?” Sulrochil wondered.  
  
“I have killed so many people in my lifetime, so he might refuse to meet me,” Legolas said.  
  
“I have killed too, and he has nothing against me.”  
  
The mood of their exchange changed towards quiet and reflective, both sank into their thoughts. Being elves they had all the feelings inside them thousandfold, and it was easy for them to shift from hilarity to melancholy in the blink of an eye. All it needed was one word or one look in the eye, sometimes there was nothing needed at all.  
  
Sulrochil knew the previous topic was out of the question. She sighed and said, “Legolas, now it occurred to me that I never asked you, how did you manage to continue your quest after Lothlorien without Mithrandir? It was so horrendous when the messenger brought the information to Mirkwood months ago. We all mourned for his loss, and it felt like all hope had vanished from the Middle-earth with his death.”  
  
“It was a blessing that we got to Lothlorien right after his loss,” he said. “We were allowed to rest here and grieve him in peace. The few days in here, without any need to be alert, only to feel the loss and mourn for him, were crucial for our survival. I sat every night up on a tree and watched the view, listening to the soothing voices of the forest, reminiscing all the good things.”  
  
“This place truly is a safe-haven,” Sulrochil said. “The love of Galadriel and Celeborn shields it from all evil. It was merciful you were here after the misfortune. Sometimes at home I feel that our land is unprotected, even though there is a forceful army surrounding it and -” Sulrochil stopped in the middle of her sentence, put her hand on her mouth, and added, horrified, “Please, forgive me. I should not have said that. Please, do go on with your story. You said you sat up on a tree.” She waved her hand, prompting him to continue.  
  
“Many times I climbed a tree to get some solace for my sorrow. I tried to concentrate on thinking about the good things.” Legolas realized he had only repeated what he already had said, but her words stirred something unpleasant deep in his soul that he could not let into his mind at the moment. “Like you said, it felt as if there was no hope, and no future left. Mithrandir meant everything good, everything light, and everything right for me, but suddenly he was gone.”  
  
Their conversation faded and they sat in silence, both deeply in their thoughts once again, watching the clear blue sky with many a bird flying above. Their closeness brought them peace, and they were content just by being able to be together without the constant need of being on watch.  
  
“Then we left Lothlorien and we just had to go on, even though no one knew what to do,” Legolas continued his story. “After Boromir died and the hobbits were scattered here and there, it all felt problematic. The hardest part was always being against the odds. With the elven army, I had used to be in battle with strong, able warriors, on whom I can always rely, but now I was there with mostly men. They are too young and too frail. I saw so much death, I have never before seen and I had to kill much more enemies than ever. There was no moment when I could breathe easily, until the Ring had been destroyed, and I suddenly had too much free time in Minas Tirith.  
  
“You are right, killing affects me. It feels wrong in every way, even though I know that there are situations when it must be done. I hate killing and what it does to my soul. I guess it affects everyone, but I do not know the reason why no one talks about it. It is so deeply within me that I should not talk about it, and perhaps someday I will, but right now your presence gives me comfort. With you everything lightens and becomes easier to bear,” Legolas said and did not dare to look at her. “Could we please talk about something else? For I do not want to think more about this.”  
  
“Why must everybody die, even though we are not mortals?” she said, with the certainty in her heart that she had to talk about something - anything - which would help him to forget his own pain over killing. And nothing would do the task better than move his attention onto her hardships. “I know we will meet them again, but it does not make it easier in this life. I am thinking of Heledirchon and all the others who died on that same day sixty years ago. There was so much death on those days. I am thinking of my father, who was brought to my mind when Mithrandir fell into abyss. The whole incident was so similar and -“  
  
“Please, tell me about your father,” Legolas asked softly.  
  
“You must know his story.”  
  
“Aye, I know the story; the public version. I have never heard it from you.”  
  
Sulrochil fidgeted with one of her braids and began, “My father Belegsul, son of Araned, was a highly respected member of King Thanduil’s Royal Army. On one mission 62 years ago, their journey took them to a cave in Northern Misty Mountains. There was an orc ambush, and fifty soldiers died, my father amongst them. He fell into a deep abyss.”  
  
“Sulrochil, that was exactly the story I know. Please, tell me about you father. What kind of a person he was?” he urged her to continue.  
  
Tentatively, Legolas shifted his position so that his upper arm touched Sulrochil’s shoulder, as an offer to lean closer to him should she want it.  
  
Sulrochil did not know if she wanted it, but she felt in her heart that she did not want not to do it. She leaned her shoulder toward his arm slightly, and at the same time he felt as solid as the wall behind them, and yet so soft she could almost drown in him.  
  
Sulrochil felt the forest around them give her some strength, and she was able to continue, “I miss my father very much. He was always there for me. You asked what kind of a person my father was; he was fun. Of course, he was many things, but I remember him being amusing. He always teased me and I just loved it. He was brilliant in many ways, he was the one who taught me everything there is to know about archery. He loved good food, and my mother always said he probably had some dwarf ancestors because of that. Forgive me, I am rambling.”  
  
“No, I quite like your musings.”  
  
“I was devastated after the death of my father. His death led my mother to fade soon after, and I lost her too. When both my parents had died, I was so alone. I could not live in our house anymore. I left it and almost everything I inherited from them.” In a lighter tone Sulrochil added: “Enough of my father. Now your turn.”  
  
“My turn? But you know who my father is,” Legolas was puzzled.  
  
“Aye, but only the public version, as you put it.”  
  
“Alright,” Legolas began, “He tries to seem distant and even cruel in public, and he does have reason for it, but he is a good father to me. To have been separated from his wife for almost three millennia has not been the easiest. He has done it for me, because without him I would have had no one. When I was a child, he spent a lot of time with me. Nowadays, not so much, but I know I can go to him anytime and he will have time for me.”  
  
“Even though he has always been there for me,” he continued, “I hated being a Prince when I was younger. Now that hatred is gone, leaving only sadness. It was horrible as a child when all you wanted to do is run in the forest, climbing trees and shooting arrows. As a child, there was no one my equal, there never was.  
  
Royalty has always been just pompous act and frivolous charade, but now when the Time of the Elves is ending, it just does not make sense. Why be a Prince if there is no possibility to ever come to the throne? Or perhaps I could become the King, but there would be no people to lead, no kingdom to rule, because soon there shall be no elves left in this world, nor shall there be the possibility to see my child inheriting the kingdom ever.” His voice trembled slightly, even though he tried to stay composed.  
  
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I never knew. When I was a child I used to envy you. You were able to live in a palace and all the good things. I never knew.”  
  
“Mostly I am just sad about all this nowadays. I am sad that the old Great Greenwood has been reduced into something horrible. It happened because of…” Legolas’ voice faded, but swiftly he continued. “It should not have been like that. Everyone wished for another destiny for our land, but let us not dwell on that matter now. I am sad because there is no future for elves in this world.”  
  
“No future indeed. It pains me to think of never being able to have children. I envy mortals in this area. I have pondered many times what I would do if I had the choice to become a mortal and have children.”  
  
“That is a choice we do not have.”  
  
“I know,” she sighed, “but I really do not know what my choice would be. And this is the reason I never wanted anyone. Marriage and the Bond of Love used to be a great gift for elves in the old days, before our time. Why should we become bound to someone? Why marry, when there is no hope for having children? The Time of the Elves is ending, and therefore there is no need for elven children anymore, but what right did they have when they took this gift from me? From the whole generation of elves, in which we happen to belong? It makes me sad.”  
  
“I am also sad because of it, but they are separate gifts: the gift of love and the gift of children,” Legolas whispered. “You can have one even if there is never a possibility to have the other.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Sulrochil,” Legolas looked at her fondly. “You know it, but do you feel it in your heart? Like I said earlier, you need to feel things in order to really take it in. Knowledge is never enough for you.”  
  
“I am not sure,” Sulrochil turned to look at him in complete puzzlement. “I really do not know if I truly feel it. Like I said earlier, it is always impossible for me to understand myself.”  
  
Under the clear sky they sat silently, leaning against each other beside the wall meant for giants, listening to the sound of the wind rustling leaves of the mallorns around them.  
  
“Sulrochil, there are so many things I would like to say to you, but this is not the time. Still, there is something I need to say you now.” Legolas said, looking directly at her eyes. “I missed you a lot when I had to be away from you for so many months. Every time, during my long journey through the whole of Middle-earth, when I felt the wind on my face, I was thinking about you. When the wind blew, I felt like you were there with me.”  
  
Sulrochil felt her heart beat faster and she could not be sure what was there in her eyes for Legolas to see.  
  
“Every time out there when the sun shone on my face, it felt like you were smiling at me.”  
  
Sulrochil felt his warmth radiate, melting something inside her. It was as if deep down in there had been something frozen, and the first rays of the early spring morning sun begin to thaw it out.  
  
“When I heard birds singing, or I saw them flying, it reminded me of you. When I watched the stars, I felt you beside me. And every time I walked in a forest under the trees, I missed you infinitely. It was like the trees were whispering your name to me.”  
  
Suddenly, she became very aware of his figure next to her, it felt like her body recognized him for the first time.  
  
“Many times I turned my head and almost said something to you, until I recalled you were not there.”  
  
It felt like a new sense beginning to form, for it was not seeing, nor hearing him, neither was it touching or not even sensing his location through their Wardens’ Bond. It was simply knowing the exact shape of his body at this immediate proximity.  
  
“The only times when I was not thinking about you were during the battles when there was a need to concentrate in my full capacity, but when I went afterwards pulling the arrows back, I was again thinking of you, and at the same time, both wishing you were there with me, and relieved you were not there in the middle of all the fighting.”  
  
“You were thinking of me all the time?” Sulrochil asked, not being sure what to think of her unexpected reaction. She tried to seem like nothing had happened, but she could not be sure what Legolas had noticed.  
  
“I was,” Legolas said. “And I am.”  
  
“Why?” Sulrochil whispered, looking directly at him.  
  
“You will know why when you stop fighting against it.”  
  
“I think I feel something, but it is odd.”  
  
“Of course it is odd,” Legolas smiled. “It is something you have never felt before.”  
  
“I need to think about this,” Sulrochil said, contemplatively. “But soon the competition begins.”  
  
Legolas leaned slightly closer to her and whispered, “We should go back.”  
  
They stood up when they heard people gathering at the start point of the obstacle course. The wall seemed to reach the sky, when it shielded them from the looks of everyone else.  
  
“Good luck in the race, Sulrochil,” Legolas said lifting his hand on her shoulder and sliding it gently down her arm all the way to her fingers, making shivers go down her spine.  
  
Sulrochil let him do it, looking up into his eyes with an uncertain smile, and she finally managed to whisper: “Good luck to you too, Legolas.” The smile in his eyes and the closeness of his tall figure made her sway.  
  
Before Legolas began walking away, Sulrochil saw something odd in his eyes. They were blue.  
  
Of course his eyes were blue, but never before she had considered how radiantly blue and mesmerizing they were. As he turned, the light in the forest changed when his gaze swept through the foliage. The air and everything around Sulrochil began shimmering in a sapphire light.  
  
What snatched her attention next, was the movement of his arms. She had seen him walking away thousands of times during the decades they had known each other, but never before it had occurred to her how attractive the way in which his arms were swinging truly was. Soon she found herself completely immersed in watching him walk away.  
  
She stood there a long while after he was no longer visible, and only then Sulrochil realized what she had been doing.  
  
Pacing slowly, Sulrochil followed him. What had just happened? That was the wrong question, she knew what had happened, but how it was possible? Or actually, it was the right question, for she could not have watched him. Watching someone’s body was not possible without love. And love was not possible if it was not mutual. They cared for each other, that much was clear. It had been clear from the beginning, but could it have changed?  
  
No, it could not have. They would know it it if had. If this were love, she would be sure about it. That was clear and taught in the very first lesson about love.  
  
If it is love, you know it. If you do not know it, it is something else.  
  
There had been something new in Legolas’ eyes for a moment, many times. There definitely had been a new way in which he looked at her, but it cannot be love, because they would know it. If it were love, they would take one look at each other and know it. That had not happened.  
  
Many times she had seen something strange in his eyes - and then it had abruptly disappeared, as if he was hiding it from her. Why would he hide it? Why did he not want her to see it? Was it not meant for her to see?  
  
This all seemed so wrong. Why was she imagining things? All along, they must have taught about watching wrong, and if someone was flawed enough, she could do it even without love. Or this had not even been watching, but something else. What it had been, she did not know.  
  
She never had wanted to feel these kinds of feelings. Everything was messed up in her mind and she had no idea what to think about all this. What worried her even more; she had no idea what was it was that she was feeling and why. Her emotions were an avalanche of everything she had ever felt, and especially everything she was feeling right now but did not understand.  
  
Past days began twirling in her mind. Her arrival to Minas Tirith and the realization she had missed Legolas much more than she had believed during his long absence. Or perhaps that was the wrong wording, she had missed him in a different way than what she had believed.  
  
When Legolas left Mirkwood, they had simply been a pair of Marchwardens doing their tasks in the woods, but now she was not sure anymore. That touch on the Sulrochil’s first night at Minas Tirith. The smallest touch of the back of his hand to her arm. It should have meant nothing. It was still something what friends could do easily and it did not have to mean anything.  
  
When Sulrochil had manhandled the poor man down on the floor in Minas Tirith and Legolas had come to help her, that was clearly something he would do for any elf lady he knew - or even not know, so that did not mean anything. But it would not have been necessary to reach his hand to Sulrochil when she released the man from under her foot. That had been something new. And what should she think about holding hands afterwards? Actually holding hands was not the problem, but the fact she had not noticed it until she began walking. It had been like it was so normal and usual for them that they could do it without second thoughts.  
  
This all led her to ponder the words of the King, actually not the King, but Legolas’ father. Had Legolas really somehow said or done something which made the King ask his annoying questions? Was it somehow a test for her, to ask rude questions and see what she would answer? Now after all this, Sulrochil could not even be sure what the King had seen in her eyes when she had answered the questions.  
  
On the whole journey here they had been touching more and more, and it had felt baffling. It had not felt wrong, but not exactly right, either. Sulrochil felt something for him, that was certain, but what was it? She could not be sure. All she knew was that if this was love, she would be sure about it.  
  
If it is love, you know it. If you do not know it, it is something else.  
  
It would feel perfectly right if it was it. This was not it.  
  
Love is such a sacred thing, it cannot make anyone feel this tangled. It is pure and therefore it does not make uncertainty rise, or make anyone feel conflicted. This cannot be it.  
  
But what was this? She did not know. Everything was complicated.  
  
The only thing she did know, was that right now she should walk to the beginning spot of the competition of four competitors. She still did not know if the fourth participant would be Tauriel or Eiliandes, but it did not matter. She would lose regardless of which would be competing. They  were both better than Sulrochil - and besides, her mind was elsewhere.  
  
When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Legolas’ back, his silvery hair flowing on his shoulders, and his arms swinging back and forth in a way she had never before seen. She knew how strong those arms were, and still he had been able to touch her so softly that it almost felt like nothing, and yet everything.  
  
Inhaling deeply, she looked at the sky, trying to get the image out of her head.  
  
If it is _it_ , you know it. She did not know it, nor did she feel it.  
  
If it is _it_ , you know it. She did not know it, so this was not it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader,  
> I usually avoid using end notes, because they disrupt the feeling you just got after finishing the chapter. Please, forgive me this time!
> 
> Thank you for reading my story. It means much to me! Thank you also everyone who has given kudos, subscribed or bookmarked it. Your support feels good :)
> 
> I’ve been writing and rewriting this story for over two years and when I began publishing it, I believed all I’d need to do is to make basic language edits before publishing, but that’s not what happened. In essence, I ended up rewriting this for the third time to make it flow more smoothly. I delete dull/inessential parts and write new more interesting (hopefully!) things and draw connections between different parts of the story etc. And I try to define how I want to write elves and their world - I’m fully aware that I’ve taken great liberties of depicting them.
> 
> Please consider leaving a comment, I'd really appreciate your insight. We are nearing the parts of the story which will be the hardest for me to edit - both emotionally and plotwise - please give me some encouragement in tackling those chapters.
> 
> Love,  
> roihu678


	10. Game Over

When Sulrochil went to fetch her weapons from her lodgings, she understood that it had happened even before she realized it - watching Legolas.  
  
But it could not have been that, she told herself as she ran back to the competition course. It was something else. What, she did not know, and her mind was in disarray. The whirlwind of confusion spiralled in her mind when she got back to the others. Deeply, she looked at the target at the end of the archery track, as if it could give her the needed answers for all these questions the unexpected emotions she had, had risen.   
  
Earlier, when they had practised on the track, Sulrochil had felt every moment Legolas had been close to her. It was like their bodies had begun to become aligned, to find some balance together. When Sulrochil had become aggravated about the too-high wall, Legolas had put his hands on her shoulders. The very touch had cooled her off. She could not even remember what Legolas had said to her, most likely “calm down”, but all she had felt at that moment was his strong hands giving peace to her.  
  
The watching. Legolas had shown her the basic elements of jumping. She knew it naturally, and she had done it a million times, but today everything was befuddled, and she acted strangely. It had also been his arms at this time. Legolas had shown how the foot should be flat on the ground on takeoff, and then swinged his arms up as if jumping onto the wall. The gracefulness of his movements made Sulrochil fix her eyes at his arms.  
  
Now she knew at what she had been looking; how she had been looking, but that was not possible. Everything she knew about _that thing_ told her that elves know when it happens. She did not know anything, she did not feel anything, she did not understand... No, that was wrong. She felt something overwhelmingly strange. In a way it was pleasant, but since she was not certain - they were not certain - it was something horribly wrong, as if something had gone awry in a way she did not understand.  
  
Now, they were waiting for the race to begin, and Sulrochil knew she should dare to look into  his eyes, for in them could be the needed answer for her. No, she thought, not here, not now. This place is crowded - everything must wait until evening, when they could talk in private about all these feelings in which she seemed to be swamped.  
  
Listening to the others talk about the forthcoming race, Sulrochil stood silently in her own thoughts. After the race, she would force herself to go and talk to him. For days she had felt something stirring in her, but had tried to avoid it altogether. Tonight would be the time.  
  
The competition course was swarming with elves. Sulrochil was somewhat intimidated, all of the faces seemed to be watching them in their Mirkwood gear with keen interest. Why had she ever promised to do this? Had it been the smile on Legolas’ face when he had asked her about this? Why are the people of Lothlorien coming to watch them as they were some kind of show animals?  
  
“It is going to be just fine,” she heard Legolas say next to her.   
  
“I will be fine when this is over and I can climb a tree to be alone and congratulate you as a winner,” she said; not looking at him.  
  
“The game is not over yet.”  
  
“Aye, but I do not hold any expectations of winning. Everyone is better than me.”  
  
“You have other strengths.”  
  
“I know that, and yet I cannot beat anyone in this game. That is just my place in this world: being insufficient, lacking the needed abilities, being beneath the adequate level. Today I will lose. Please, just make sure you win,” she said with a grin.  
  
“If I win,” he said, “how you can climb a tree and congratulate me at the same time if you are supposed to be alone?”  
  
“I include you in my solitude,” Sulrochil said, and when she uttered those words, she was terrified, because it was the truth. Never in her lifetime had she considered anyone - not even the dearest members of her family - as people with whom she would feel at ease all the time. Always she had needed solitude after being with people, including her family, for a long time, but now - today - when they had spend a long time talking, it had been as restful as being alone. Not even the long silent moments had felt awkward like they had before.   
  
Today, she had felt only the soothing peace of the forest around her, when they had sat together leaning against the high wall. It was as if he was part of the forest for her. The forest was her home, the trees were her family - and today Legolas had been with her there, in the forest, and the spirit of her, him, and the forest had been united.  
  
It had been better than being alone.  
  
The jolt of this revelation shocked Sulrochil, adding to her confusion. Before she had time to think about it more, they were interrupted by Glawaron and another male elf who seemed significant.  
  
“Good afternoon, Marchwarden Sulrochil of Mirkwood and Prince Legolas, Marchwarden of Mirkwood. May I introduce Chief Marchwarden Leithianor of Lothlorien,” Glawaron said politely.  
  
Greetings and niceties were exchanged, bowings took place. Sulrochil performed these acts, as she knew was the proper way of greeting someone new, but her mind was elsewhere.  
  
“I will be the judge in the competition today,” Chief Marchwarden Leithianor said, casting a glance at the elves around him. “There should be four competitors, but I see only three. Where is the fourth?”  
  
“I am here, Chief Marchwarden Leithianor,” the fourth competitor said.  
  
Sulrochil turned to look at the elf walking towards them. Tauriel looked different than what Sulrochil recalled her being. She wore the Lothlorien Marchwarden uniform with pride, her hair was much shorter than before, and all her weapons were new. Sulrochil had never seen her this close, but Tauriel held the same aura of self-confidence she always had. In a way she was even more surefooted than before. It was as if she now knew her place in this world, even though she could not hide the trace of sadness in her eyes.   
  
“Good,” said Chief Marchwarden Leithianor. “Here are the rules for today: you are not allowed to touch the other competitors in any way, blocking others will lead to disqualification, and no teamwork is allowed.” He eyed the pair from Mirkwood sternly. “All your arrows must go to the inner circle of the target, otherwise you will be disqualified. The starting point for each of you will be your archery track, then you run through the obstacle course and return to your archery track to first shoot 25 arrows in your quiver and then 25 arrows lying criss-cross on the ground. The fastest wins, unless disqualified. Any questions?”  
  
“No, Chief Marchwarden Leithianor,” said both Legolas and Sulrochil in unison, standing at attention. Tauriel did not say anything, but a brief surge of surprise flashed in her eyes when she saw the other two competitors in her peripheral vision.  
  
“Now I will check your arrows and other equipment. Please, this way.” Leithianor led them to the archery tracks and began checking the weaponry of the competitors.  
  
While he was at it, Sulrochil dared to glance at the audience. The trees surrounding the racing area were full of spectators. All of the platforms held many people; making her uncomfortable about all this.  
  
Leithianor took a few steps and began his speech for the audience. “Welcome to the warrior contest with four participants. We are delighted to have two representatives from Mirkwood to compete against two members of Lothlorien. The participants are Sulrochil, Marchwarden of Mirkwood, Prince Legolas, Marchwarden of Mirkwood, Tauriel, Marchwarden of Lothlorien and Glawaron, Marchwarden of Lothlorien. The audience must stay silent during the competition. You are not allowed to make a sound until the last arrow of the last participant is on the target.”   
  
Then he repeated the rules for the audience and asked the warriors get to their starting points.  
  
Leithianor gave his signal and all four competitors began running towards the first climbing ropes. After the couple of first obstacles, Sulrochil was last as she had anticipated and decided not to pay attention to the others at all. The next obstacle was a pipe, and as she could crawl much faster, she quickly gained on the others. Through a few bridges, stairs, and fences they went, until the high wall was next. Sulrochil tried to forget all the drilling from the morning and just jump. And she did. She had her hands on the top of the wall and dragged herself over it. After that, she decided to only enjoy the race, and not even look at the others. She climbed and crawled and ran. Sulrochil was behind the others, but not very far.   
  
Legolas and Glawaron arrived to the archery track at almost the same time. When both had shot ten arrows; Tauriel arrived, and finally so did Sulrochil after six more arrows. Once Tauriel and Sulrochil began shooting, both began to gain on the male elves, and they were not far behind by the time there were only the arrows lying randomly on the ground. Legolas handled these much faster than Glawaron, but it was obvious to everybody that Tauriel was the fastest in this. Sulrochil was quick too, and they both picked the arrows from the ground faster than the others. When Tauriel shot the last of her arrows and beat Glawaron, Sulrochil was not much behind. Legolas had already finished his task, and could watch everyone else’s last shots.  
  
When Sulrochil’s last arrow hit the target, it sounded like the forest was humming when the audience cheered; the competitors waving slightly the branches of the trees. Legolas raised one arm and slowly turned around in victory. Glawaron congratulated him half-heartedly and disappeared into the crowds.   
  
“The winner is Prince Legolas, Marchwarden of Mirkwood,” announced Leithianor.  
  
Sulrochil turned her eyes to Legolas who was already getting congratulations. It seemed like half of the Lorien elves wanted to come and talk to him. Tauriel tried to congratulate Legolas, but he was surrounded by the crowd and when she heard the conversation, she decided to leave.  
  
People asked Legolas how he managed the last task so wonderfully, as he had been so close with Glawaron before that. He explained that was one of basic drills of the Mirkwood Army, giving him practice and experience. That led to a flood of questions about the situation in Mirkwood, of which he could not know much, for he had been away for half a year. Many questions about why he joined the Marchwardens of Mirkwood, and why he had quit at the army followed soon after.  
  
Every question seemed to make Legolas’ frustration grow, and Sulrochil felt sorry for him - did they not notice he disliked answering most of the questions? Then someone asked a question about the Battle of the Five Armies and how he had beaten Bolg then. Before Legolas even had time to answer the question, someone asked something about the dwarves and Tauriel. Legolas got visibly anguished when he heard the question - did Legolas believe he was somehow responsible for her abrupt disappearance after the battle? Or was there another reason for his agony? Sulrochil’s heart ached for him, but she could not very well go and drag Legolas out of the crowd of curious Lorien elves.  
  
When Legolas began describing how he had beaten Bolg, Sulrochil decided to go and pull her arrows from the target and climb the tallest tree she could find, for there was nothing she could do for Legolas that would help him. He only needed to endure all the questioning.  
  
“Sulrochil, congratulations! You were amazing today,” Eiliandes shouted, walking briskly towards Sulrochil who was pacing towards her target.  
  
“Was I? I lost the game.”  
  
“Aye, you were. No one expected you to get so close to the others.”  
  
“Glawaron seemed to take losing to Tauriel quite hard. I did not anticipate her being so good at  picking arrows from the ground.”  
  
“No, you only chose that task so Legolas would win,” Eiliandes said with a smile.  
  
“How did you guess that?”  
  
“Sulrochil,” Eiliandes said, “I have known you since childhood. You hate winning, you always have. You did not choose that task so you could win, but because you wanted Legolas to win.”  
  
“I am sorry for Glawaron.”  
  
“No need to be sorry for him; he will calm down soon, for sure. Would you have time now to come to visit our home?”  
  
“I do not want to come if Glawaron wishes to be alone.”  
  
“He is not at home,” Eiliandes said.  
  
“Are you not going to find him, wherever he is?” Sulrochil asked.  
  
“Of course not! Let him be alone for a while, he will come home before nightfall. He is probably practising how to shoot arrows from the ground. Please, do come,” Eiliandes said.  
  
“Then I would love that,” Sulrochil replied, and they began walking down the path while Eiliandes told Sulrochil how the competition had looked from her eyes.  
  
“Welcome to our home,” Eiliandes said. It was a small hut up on a tree. It consisted of a common room and a bedroom. Sulrochil thought it was comfortable. She had been living in the woods, sleeping on the cloak swings for decades, and using her cousin’s place as a some kind of a home base when needed; this kind of a hut could be quite nice. She looked at the common room with a simple table and two chairs, in addition to rugs and pillows for sitting on the floor. Those would be nice, especially during the darkest months of winter. In her mind she pictured two steaming mugs of hot tea on the floor in her future home.   
  
“Please, sit down on the rugs,” Eiliandes said. “I can give you water and dried fruits, if you would like. I know you would like hot tea, but unfortunately I cannot offer you that. We usually eat at Glawaron’s parents’ home, so there is no cooking area here.”  
  
“Thank you, I would like that if it is not too much of a bother,” Sulrochil said and wondered, why she had pictured two mugs of tea instead of one, even though she was certain she had imagined a lovely relaxing night for unwinding on the soft rugs. Never could she have visitors in those kind of moments.  
  
“Not at all.” Eiliandes opened the cupboard and took some water, some dried apple slices, and cranberries.  
  
“Oh, dried cranberries!” Sulrochil exclaimed.  
  
“Since when have you liked them?” Eiliandes said, and gestured towards a small bowl full of the red berries.  
  
“Well, it is not me… I mean…”  
  
“I see,” Eiliandes smiled. “I should have guessed the fondness in your eyes was not for the berries. I guess it is someone else then, who likes cranberries?”  
  
“You are right,” Sulrochil said, eating one of the berries. “Legolas loves these.”  
  
“Please, eat as many as you like and take the rest of the berries for him; we have plenty in the storage. You can also take the rest of the apple slices to share with him. It will be good to come back to Mirkwood with you tomorrow and see my parents again. I have not seen them in years. It has been difficult lately, but now I feel like everything is getting better. Perhaps everything will turn for the better before the elves finally leave this world. Perhaps there can be peace in Middle-earth and in our homeland too. You know, Sulrochil, I will always consider Mirkwood as my homeland, even though I have been living here for centuries. It is such a gloomy place, but I hope it can begin to flourish soon. I have a feeling it will. Please, tell me, Sulrochil, what are your plans for when you get back home?”  
  
EIliandes’ chatter flowed in one of Sulrochil’s ears and out the other. She drank a mug of water and felt a lot better, but fell into her thoughts again. She took another red cranberry and chewed it carefully, relishing its delicious taste. The image of Legolas raising his arm in victory and his slowly turning body came into her mind and did not leave her alone, making her heart bristle with incoherence and ambiguity.  
  
“You seem to be thinking about something,” Eiliandes said gently.  
  
“Forgive me, my mind is elsewhere right now.”  
  
“If you want to talk about it, I will listen, but if you do not want to talk, then it is alright.”  
  
“How do you know when it is love with someone?” Sulrochil said bluntly, deciding to get to the root of the problem.  
  
“Well, you just know it,” Eiliandes smiled.  
  
“But how?”  
  
“You of course know this already, but I can repeat it for you, if you need to hear it aloud from me: you feel love in your mind, body and soul. There are of course other signs too, but if you feel it properly, it is real. It is a clear certainty in your soul. You cannot mistake it for anything else.”  
  
“It is difficult when I never wished for anything. How can I even consider this when I have always refused even the very thought of love? I do not want it, and yet I do. The problem is that I feel something, but it is not ‘the clear certainty’ you described.”  
  
“Sulrochil,” Eiliandes took her hands in hers and watched her with concerned eyes. “There are a lot of things I would like to say to you, but I will not. You must find the answers on your own. However, I will say one thing. You have always refused love in your heart, you have not seeked it, nor wished for it. There must be a huge obstacle in your heart now and you must find a way to overcome it.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I do not know how, but if it is love, it will find a way -  no matter how hard it is. Do you think he is the kind of person who would give up? Or you? I have never seen you give up on anything, and you cannot give up now. Since childhood, you have told yourself you shall never love anyone because you cannot have children, but the gift of marriage and the gift of having children are two separate gifts. You can have the first without the second. Gifts are gifts, and if you are offered a gift, please do not say no to it. You must stop resisting it and open your heart up to it. Please, let it breeze into your soul.”  
  
“Eiliandes, I am confused and overwhelmed. I have no idea what is wrong with me and how to overcome anything and I just want to get my thoughts onto something else for a while. Please, tell me about how things are in Lothlorien.”  
  
Eiliandes saw her friend truly wanted to get a distraction, and she began telling her about everyday life and some amusing encounters they had had when doing their Marchwarden duty. At some point she began telling about how she lost some of her close friends in the war and it almost made her cry.  
  
“Sulrochil, would you like to go back to the obstacle track and run it through with me a couple of times? I believe that would cheer us both.”  
  
“That would be delightful,” Sulrochil’s eyes lit up.  
  
They ran through the obstacle course a couple of times, shot arrows until they were exhausted, and sat on a bench under a beautiful mallorn.  
  
“Thank you, I needed this,” Eiliandes said draping her arm over Sulrochil’s shoulders.  
  
“Aye, thank you,” Sulrochil said leaning a bit into her touch. “You are a blessing, Eiliandes. You are the only old friend I have left in this world, for all others died in the Battle of the Five Armies.” She became suddenly pensive, as did Eiliandes.   
  
They sat a long time and discussed  dead friends and family members; about those who faded away afterwards; about relatives who sailed away; about the sorrow of the fact there is no future for the elves anymore. And about how painful it is to know you can never have children.   
  
They also laughed, when they told each other about amusing facts about those who do not exist in this world anymore; when they reminisced the good days. It was already dark when they parted; hearts full of the anticipation of the shared journey home tomorrow.  
  
Watching Eiliandes walk back home, Sulrochil went sitting by the high wall in the obstacle course. It was a bliss to just sit all by herself and listen to the trees humming around her and watch the starry sky. She had to admit to herself that she waited for Legolas to come. She had sensed him being in the same place for over an hour, not far from her. Does this mean he wants to be alone? Or is he waiting for her to come? Or that he does not want her to come to him? Oh, why did this have to be so complicated? It all used to be simple. Just a simple Marchwarden pair doing their tasks in the vast forests around Mirkwood. Just simple companionship with a trusted friend. Just simple patrols by night and day. So simple.  
  
She decided to go find him.  
  
After walking a short distance, Sulrochil found Legolas in the tent, in which they had shared tea this morning. Tea and an argument to be precise, she smiled to herself, thinking that she should learn to control her feelings.    
  
Legolas was sitting by the table; his eyes closed and everything in his demeanour radiated anxiety.  
  
“Congratulations on winning the contest,” she said, and sat next to him.  
  
“Why did you disappear earlier?” he said opening his eyes - but not turning to look at her.  
  
“I went with Eiliandes.”  
  
“But why?”  
  
“What?” Sulrochil snapped. “She is my friend, and I wanted to talk to her. Is that forbidden?”  
  
“No,” Legolas said. “Of course, not.”  
  
“Why are you asking me a reason for that, then?”  
  
“For no reason,” he sighed. Sulrochil knew him well enough to understand he was angry, there was a small change in the tone of his voice, and she could not fathom the reason for his anger.  
  
“Why are you angry at me? What have I done?” Sulrochil asked.  
  
“I am not angry at you.”  
  
  
“You are angry, but if not at me, at something else.”  
  
“A brilliant conclusion,” he said vacantly.  
  
“But why? Why are you angry?” Sulrochil turned to look at him, ignoring his remark. “Is the flood of questions from the Lorien elves after the competition the reason? You seemed frustrated earlier.”  
  
 “Did you overhear their questions?” Legolas turned to look at her, shocked.  
  
“They were so noisy that it was impossible not to hear.”  
  
“I am sorry,” Legolas said, leaning his head onto his hands.  
  
“You have no reason to be sorry.”  
  
“What did you exactly hear?”  
  
“I left when you began describing the gory details of killing Bolg. I had no desire to listen to how you spilled the contents of his head all over the mountain.”  
  
“If you left at that moment, you did not hear the questions that got me furious.” Legolas lifted his head and his agony was relieved a tiny bit, for if she did not overhear the unjustified questions about Tauriel and him, he could explain everything himself. He had not ever considered what people had said about him and Tauriel, but in a way it made sense - for a long time they had been tied closely together as warriors.   
  
It made sense that the people had wished for the same thing he had been wishing for back then.  
  
“I am sorry for that they made you feel so bad.” Sulrochil turned to look at Legolas with concerned eyes and brushed his arm cautiously. Never before had she touched him to provide comfort for him, and she was lost in her feelings - never had she wished for _it_ and still she could not be sure if this was it. Something was lacking, and she did not exactly know what it was. Befuddlement and uncertainty filled her mind, and she hoped they could find the clarity together tonight.  
  
“Legolas,” Sulrochil said after a moment when Legolas did not answer. “Can we just start over?”   
  
Legolas looked at her confused as she hugged him, saying quietly, “Congratulations, Legolas.”  
  
It took him a moment to realize what she was doing - her sudden closeness felt so overwhelming - but he heard the sincerity in her voice and so he also draped his arms around her and said, “Thank you, Sulrochil.”  
  
Their embrace lasted longer than it should for a simple congratulations. Finally, Sulrochil withdrew from it and said, “I have a present for you.”   
  
Her eyes were full of fondness when she dug a small pouch out of her pocket.  
  
“A present?” Legolas looked at her and saw something in Sulrochil’s eyes which made him finally certain of what she was feeling. He had been waiting for seeing that dazzling look in her eyes for days. Now it was there - and the beauty of it took his breath away.  
  
“Aye, here it is.” She gave him a little package wrapped in cloth.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, and as he opened it, his eyes shone as if the dried cranberries were the most valuable gift ever. He popped one of the red berries into his mouth and eyed the tent around them. Anyone could come here, it was a necessity they went somewhere else. Where, he did not care, as long as it was a place they could be in private. “I know a place with a magnificent view. Could we…, I mean, would you like to come with me there?   
  
“It is already dark, I wonder how wonderful the view can be.”  
  
“I would like to show it to you anyway,” he said, looking at the pouch of cranberries. “It is not the view, I think we need to talk.” He lifted his eyes to Sulrochil’s and found only complete perplexity in them. All traces of what he just had seen in them were gone. It pained his heart to think how long the road they still had ahead was.   
  
It was not the length of the road he feared, though, and not even the possible difficulties on the path, only the eventual outcome. Could they ever find their way there?  
  
“Alright,” Sulrochil said. “At any time I prefer privacy over this open place.”  
  
When they began to leave, they saw an elf standing in the doorway.  
  
“My Lord Legolas,” Tauriel said, and bowed. “Please forgive me for interrupting you. I would not have done it, but I heard you asked to see me.”  
  
“You did not interrupt anything,” Legolas replied. “We were just leaving, and there is absolutely no need for you to use the title anymore. Neither of us is part of the Mirkwood Army anymore, and you are now a citizen of Lothlorien. Please, call me Legolas.”  
  
“It is difficult,” Tauriel said, “after all the time looking up to you and using the title. I cannot consider myself at the same level as you.”  
  
“Please do try,” he said. “You left Mirkwood so abruptly. How have you been faring? Where have you been all these decades?”  
  
“I had to leave… after that. I could not stay. Please, understand that I had to leave. I have been here and there. Alone. Did my departure cause any difficulties?”  
  
  
“Of course it did,” he said, “but I do understand why you had to do it. I am sorry for what happened; I am sorry for everything. Have you ever considered coming back?”  
  
“No,” was her immediate reply. “I cannot return. There is no place for me there anymore.”  
  
  
“I believe there is, if you truly wish to return,” Legolas said. “I would like to see you back there. As would many others, including the King. Please, do come back. There is always a place for you in Mirkwood if you want it.”  
  
“I have to reconsider.”  
  
“Please do,” Legolas said. “May I ask why you did not come to talk to me while I was here half a year ago with the fellowship?”  
  
“I tried. I would have liked to meet you, but every time I saw you, you were with the hobbits or the dwarf,” Tauriel said, and looked at Legolas. When she uttered the word ‘dwarf’, for a brief moment, her eyes were filled with love for Kili - the dwarf she had loved, but lost sixty years ago. Soon, she composed herself again and resumed her speech. “I could not come to talk to you when you were with them. I would have wanted to meet you alone.”  
  
“I understand,” he said, his tone laced with compassion.  
  
“You have not introduced me to her,” she said nodding towards Sulrochil, not wishing to think anymore about the love she had for Kili. For decades she had mourned for the dwarf. For all eternity she would mourn for him. Any distraction - no matter how small - from her all-consuming sorrow was welcome.  
  
“This is Sulrochil. She is my - ,” Legolas said looking at Sulrochil and then turned to look at Tauriel, finishing his sentence, “Marchwarden partner.” When Legolas turned his eyes from Sulrochil to Tauriel, he could not hide his feelings for Sulrochil anymore. A shy smile crept onto his lips, and his eyes shone for the briefest of moments, full of love.  
  
“It is my pleasure to meet you, Sulrochil,” Tauriel said with a wide smile. She had, of course, noticed the love in Legolas’ eyes, and was truly happy for him. He deserved love - and the whole of Mirkwood deserved to finally see love of their leaders and to live in a Kingdom sheltered by the love of those leaders. Perhaps her homeland could begin to flourish finally, after all these difficult millennia of desperation. Not even her own misery could prevent Tauriel from being genuinely happy for Legolas and Sulrochil.   
  
When Tauriel turned to look at Sulrochil, she expected to see the same spark in Sulrochil’s eyes, but was met with a pair of green eyes looking back at her in absolute terror.  
  
“I am also delighted to meet you, Tauriel,” Sulrochil said hastily, looking at the two smiling elves in turn. Every rumour she had heard about them decades ago rushed into her mind. Then, she had refused to listen to them, but now, they all made sense.   
  
It was the truth, then, what she had heard then, and at the Battle of Five Armies something horrible had happened, something unutterably terrible that had made those two depart in different directions. Whatever the cause had been, she did not wish to know, but it was clear it had been dissolved now.   
  
The love in their eyes when they looked at each other, told Sulrochil enough. “Please excuse me, I forgot something at Eiliandes’ home. I must at once go back and get it.”  
  
She bowed deeply to the two elves in front of her, and left.  
  
Tauriel looked at the swish of Sulrochil’s braids at a total loss when she quickly rushed out of the tent. However, when Sulrochil turned to the left and began running, Tauriel knew what had happened. “Go after her, Legolas,” she said, horrified.  
  
“Why?” he asked. “She will come back after she gets whatever she forgot at Eiliandes’ home.”  
  
“No one ever has bowed for me like that,” Tauriel said, “and I truly hope no one ever will do it again. Besides, Eiliandes lives over there.”   
  
Legolas looked at her finger, pointing to right, and when he truly pictured Sulrochil’s bowing in his mind, he realized she had not bowed for Tauriel as a polite bowing meant for greeting, but she had bowed for both of them.  
  
Sulrochil had bowed for Prince Legolas and his… He could not finish that line of thought. Anguish filled his heart, when he realized what Sulrochil must have believed, what she thinks happened, and especially what she must be feeling now.  
  
Legolas ran after her, every possible outcome stabbing at his heart with each step.


	11. It Is Cold Out Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments I’ve received so far, both on this site and on the another one on which I publish this simultaenously! Getting feedback means a lot to me when I’m writing these difficult chapters now. I’m much more comfortable in the cheerful, happy parts of the story, and I promise we will get there again soon. Soon(ish). I would be thrilled to hear from you!

As Sulrochil ran towards the forest, something began to stir inside her and the ancient whispers popped into her mind one after the other. Of course she had heard what people said back then about Legolas and Tauriel, but she had refused to listen to them. It had not been her place to discuss those matters, even though she, amongst others, had always wanted only the best for her Prince. She had not thought about those matters in decades.  
  
Yet, they were there.  
  
The previous discussion rolled in her mind when she ran deeper into the forest. Actually, not the discussion, as she did not remember their words, but the looks in their eyes. When Tauriel had finally dared to look at Legolas, her eyes were full of love and when Legolas saw it, his eyes smiled because of the beauty filling their hearts.  
  
It had shocked Sulrochil. Her first reaction had been severe disappointment. She had believed something totally different would happen tonight, but now that the truth between those two had been revealed, she would have to bury those kind of thoughts.  
  
As she ran further she tried to get a grasp about what had went wrong in her feelings, but she could not find any reason. Could she ever find the reason why she had believed such  drastically wrongful things?  
  
All possible explanations slipped from her mind when she tried to analyze them. With each step she listed all facts she knew about this. First, she felt something strange. It was a good feeling, but vague; like ripples on water. Second, she had seen something in his eyes many times. Third, he had behaved differently. But these did not tell her anything. Fourth, and that was the end of her reasoning. Fourth, was that when Legolas and Tauriel had looked at each other, Sulrochil had seen love sparkling in their eyes. Fifth, even she had enough wit to understand if those two loved each other, whatever she had felt was not it! She was flawed and she should accept that, even if she could not fathom the reason.  
  
The end of reasoning. The end.  
  
No, this is not the end, but the beginning. The joyful beginning of something grand for their kingdom and she should try to find joy; joy because her Prince had finally found love. For many long centuries he had been alone and everyone had hoped he would find someone. Now that he finally had found it, all Sulrochil should feel was enormous joy. Joy because of him. No, not just because of him but because of both of them. Them.  
  
It felt odd to think about them. No, they are not just them, for they do have names. Legolas and Tauriel. They deserved happiness and soon, maybe even tomorrow morning, Sulrochil could find it in her heart to truly join the jubilation everyone must now feel.  
  
This was a day of jubilation for Mirkwood. For almost three millennia the kingdom had been led by a King with devastating sorrow in his heart after his wife had been robbed of this world far too early. With a bleeding heart the King had limped through his life, the blood dripping to the ground at each step, leaving the land covered in blood, not love - like it should have been.  
  
Without love the kingdom had degraded into a doleful place of sadness.  
  
Finally, now it could begin to flourish again. The King could sail to the undying lands to reunite with his wife and he could finally leave the kingdom to his son.  
  
After she had seen Legolas and Tauriel as they were, there had not been any other possibility for Sulrochil, but to make up an excuse and leave immediately -  leave them to sort out whatever there was to be sorted out. For sixty years they had been separated, and today was their day of jubilation. She should not wait until the morning to feel joy about this miraculous event, she should find the happiness in her heart now.  
  
The rumours flowed in her ears as various voices. “They are so close, they always have been so close.” “Now we only wait for the announcement of their betrothal.” “Happy days will come soon in Mirkwood when the army can be again led by love, when they finally unite.” “When the love left our kingdom almost three millennia ago, it was like all hope left our land. All that was left was a pain, sorrow and mourning. The people mourning for their Queen, the King mourning for his wife, the Prince mourning for his mother. But soon, very soon, our kingdom will be filled with love again - when those two finally see each other in the way they should.”  
  
Their love will prevail.  
  
The love will prevail, Sulrochil thought. Indeed, and she should run to the forest and ask the spirit of the trees to forgive her for her unacceptable thoughts. Still, she did not know what had caused her to believe such inappropriate things about she and Legolas, but she would bury those thoughts now. Once and for all. Shame filled her heart when she realized just how badly she had misunderstood everything and almost confessed these wrongful thoughts to him.  
  
Never would she utter those thoughts to him or anyone else.  
  
Tomorrow she would meet the Mirkwood Embassy with bright eyes, head up, and bow for her Prince and his betrothed. She had no doubts they would not hesitate their betrothal one moment longer, if they already had been in some kind of a misunderstanding for six long decades. Proudly, Sulrochil would fulfill her assignment from her King. She would return back to Mirkwood with all others, would bow for her King and return her Messenger badge. Then she would have to ask Legolas that they would together do the last of their shared duties - resign from the Marchwardens of Mirkwood. That was the last deed they ever would do together. “Do everything together.” That phrase had guided them through the last thirty years serving as Marchwardens, but it would have to end.  
  
Then she would… Sulrochil looked at the moon as she ran forward, but it did not tell her what she should do after that.  
  
Then she would… neither did the stars give her advice on the issue, and Sulrochil had no idea what she would do after that, but it did not matter now. The only thing that mattered now was to get rid of her indecent feelings and it was not hard, because suddenly she did not feel anything at all. As she ran between the trees deeper into the forest all of her feelings seeped out of her heart and the trees took them.  
  
The feelings floated in the air and the trees draped them around their trunks. The trees caught  them in their foliage like fish in a net. The last of her emotions formed small bubbles jittering in the wind. In the bubbles she saw the image of two smiling elves - Legolas and Tauriel. Every bubble shone the love in their eyes and it was like the whole forest was full of the bubbles, reflecting their happiness.  
  
They were the bubbles of purification. She washed her heart; got rid of all her inappropriate emotions; and the soapy bubbles floated in the air ridding her heart of dirt and filth. She shoved the last of her emotions into the forest as bubbles - and the needles of spruces pierced them.  
  
Suddenly, she was free of emotions.  
  
Now her soul was a rock. She saw spring everywhere around her, the tiny leaves in the branches of the trees. Tiny stems of starflowers growing in the ground. There was spring everywhere except in her soul. Her soul was a rock; how could a rock become alive?  
  
The starflowers have grown, she swore they were bigger than yesterday. Everything around her grew, sprouted, bloomed, became greener, richer, bigger. In her soul only a void existed. The greenness surrounding her everywhere, the grayness solidifying her core.  
  
Delicate leaves reaching for the spring, her soul formed into a rock.  
  
The trees wailed as they felt the spirit of the kind wood elf transforming into a lifeless gray rock. The rock made of an elf rolled between the aspens and between the pines, making a ghoulish sound. The benign trees caught the emotions of the elf. Under their bark they hid them, into their trunks they buried them; over their branches they nested them and handed them from tree to tree wherever the elf ran; promising themselves that when the elf would be ready, they would give them back to her.  
  
For a some time now Sulrochil had sensed Legolas was running after her, and the sensation became clearer all the time once she shrugged off the last of her emotions. He was faster than her and thus would reach her at some point anyway, so she decided to stop. Not because she wished to speak with him, but because she knew she had no other choice. He was her Prince - and in addition to that, he was a Prince who just had gotten together with someone he had missed for the last 60 years. She could not keep him away from her because of her stubbornness.  
  
“Why did you run away, Sulrochil?” Legolas asked, when he finally saw her standing between two spruces in the forest. He had to talk to her back, because she did not turn to face him.  
  
“Please, go away,” she said.  
  
“I am not going away. We were going to go somewhere to talk. You and I. Do you remember?”  
  
“Aye,” she said, “but then something came up.”  
  
“What came up, Sulrochil? Please tell me,” Legolas said gently, worry clouding his heart.  
  
“You know it better than I,” she said in a bitter voice, still refusing to face him.  
  
Legolas took a couple of steps closer to her, “I do not know. Please tell me, Sulrochil.”  
  
“Tauriel came.”  
  
“Aye, she came, we talked and then you abruptly ran away assumedly to get something back from Eiliandes, but I do not see her house here. Why did you lie to me?”  
  
“Is it not obvious?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Go back to her,” Sulrochil said, and finally turned to look at Legolas.  
  
“I have no intention of doing that. I want to be with you, and I need to know why you left. What made you bow like that?”  
  
“I saw you as you are. As you should have been ages ago.”  
  
“What is that, Sulrochil? What did you see?”  
  
  
“I saw,” she said and swallowed. For a while she stared at the fallen spruce needles on the ground until she turned her eyes to him and said in a poised manner, “I saw love in her eyes when she looked at you, and I saw love in your eyes when you looked at her. In my opinion, everything is very obvious. I congratulate you, and now I ask you to leave me alone.”  
  
“Sulrochil,” Legolas said, “you are right about what you saw, but you are wrong about one thing, or rather two.”  
  
She did not reply, but stood still, as she could not leave before getting a formal dismissal from him.  
  
“You saw love in Tauriel’s eyes, but the person who she loves is Kili, the dwarf who died in the Battle of Five Armies,” Legolas said. “You are also correct when you saw love in my eyes, but the person whom I love is not Tauriel. I think you do know whom it is that I love.” He took a couple more steps closer to Sulrochil. Enough to touch her if he would extend his arm.  
  
If. If he would extend his arm, but he would not do that, for he could not bear to see her flinch away from his touch. She had shut him out; she had shut everything out.  
  
“All I know is what I saw a moment ago. I saw what I saw,” she said.  
  
“You saw what you saw, but your interpretation of it is false. Please, ask your heart what is in there. It is there, even though I know it is hard for you to believe it, until you feel it properly yourself.”  
  
“You are mocking me.”  
  
“No,” Legolas said. “My intention is quite different than mocking you. Will you listen to me if I tell you a story?”  
  
  
“I have no other option than to listen to you, my Lord,” she said, bowing. “I must obey you.”  
  
“If that is the only way to make you listen to me, then so be it,” Legolas sighed, feeling colder by the moment. She had shut him out and the coldness of this place outside of her heart was chilling him to the core. “You once asked why I joined the Marchwardens. It is not a story I am proud of, nor a story I tell you gladly, but you need to know. Perhaps I should have told you all this before, and I do not know if this is the right moment, but now I feel I must tell you. You must hear this from me, and not from someone else later. Perhaps there is no right moment, but I could not have told this before and I can not wait for later. Still, you deserve to know this.”  
  
Sulrochil straightened a bit, as she did not know what to expect and it did not sound at all the same thing she had believed he would tell her, but perhaps he needed a long-winded story to get there.  
  
Sulrochil nodded and Legolas began his story, “Sixty years ago I left Mirkwood after the Battle of the Five Armies. I went north to seek out dunedain rangers and found Aragorn and the others. I lived with them for several years.”  
  
“That was nothing new, you have told me those things before.”  
  
“True, but I did not tell you the real reasons why I went. First, I hated what I had become serving in my father’s court. He commanded me to act as if I was cruel and ruthless. He wanted me to act like I was cold and calculating. I had to harden my heart while I did some things he asked me to do. I will not elaborate on those deeds today. It was not in my nature but he asked me and I wanted to please him.  
  
“He himself is acting when he seems to be cruel and distant, and he asked me to act similarly because he thinks that is the right way to do it. I disliked what I had to do. I had been thinking of leaving many times, but I had no place to go.”  
  
“Why are you telling me all this now? I fail to see the point in this,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“Please, let me finish what I am going to say. This is not easy for me.”  
  
Sulrochil did not reply, but stood still, looking at the ground between her and Legolas.  
  
“When I got to the north where the dunedain lived I was feeling lost. But with them I got back what really was important for me. The love of nature, forests, freedom to climb trees at night and sing a song if I felt like singing. I got rid of all idiotic standards and finally began to live like I ever wanted. But the reason why I left exactly after the Battle of Five Armies, was Tauriel.”  
  
He felt how she froze and inhaled as she was going to say something and he continued quickly, “Please, do not say anything. Let me finish.”  
  
She still did not move, only lowered her head slightly so she could stare at her toes.  
  
“Tauriel was one of my subordinates. We were on many missions together and we were quite close - as warriors, that is. We were comrades, doing joint assignments, and it is the truth that I thought I felt something for her. I can admit to you now that I wished for something with her, but nothing happened. Never. Nothing happened because she did not wish the same. I know it must have seemed to the others that we were closer than we were, and I know the people wished that the love would bind us together, but that did not happen.  
  
“60 years ago the 13 dwarves came to Mirkwood and she fell in love with one of them. His name was Kili. To make a long story short: he died and it devastated her. I saw her reaction when Kili died, and I understood that she really had loved him and it was certain that nothing ever could happen between me and her.”  
  
“I do not want to hear this,” Sulrochil said in a defeated voice.  
  
“Please, let me finish what I want to say,” Legolas said.  
  
Sulrochil did not answer, only waited.  
  
He was silent for a moment, swallowed a couple of times, fixed his gaze at a rock on the ground and continued, “Finally I figured out what my feelings towards Tauriel had been. I had cared for her and I had been wishing for more, but nothing happened between us. My feelings were only wishful thinking. It could have seemed to others that there was more between us. I know there have been rumours about us, but there was nothing between us. Never. Nothing happened. Partly, I suppose, because I was her superior, but mostly, because she did not want anything more.”  
  
“I do not believe any of this,” Sulrochil said slowly in a quiet voice, “You wanted her, and now you finally have her. I saw it with my own eyes. Please, do not insult me anymore with these stories, for I do not wish to hear anything more. Am I free to go now, my Lord?”  
  
“You are free to go, Sulrochil,” Legolas said, pain agonizing his heart, “but please do keep in mind that if you try to go away, I will follow you. I will follow you to the end of the world, if it takes that. So, please do not go out of the range of our Wardens’ Bond.”  
  
Sulrochil blinked, and said, “Am I your prisoner, my Lord?”  
  
“How can you say that?”  
  
“If I am not allowed to go further than half a mile from you, then I am your prisoner. If I truly were free to go, you would not have demanded that.”  
  
“Go, Sulrochil, if you must,” he said, sadness flooding with his words. “Go as far as you must go, but do know this: I will wait for you tomorrow morning when we resume our journey towards home. If you do not join the rest of us, I will go home and confine myself in the Halls of Thranduil so that when you finally find what there is in your heart to find, you will find me there. I will wait for you until the end of my days. Sulrochil, the prisoner will be me. Forever.”  
  
“Please, stop now, for you are insulting me. I thought...” her voice faded, she looked down the ground for a second, swallowed before continued, “Never mind what I thought,” she said and began to leave.  
  
Legolas was devastated to see her deciding to leave. “Sulrochil, please, don’t go. Please, talk to me. Please, say what you are thinking, for you also know what this is between me and you. I know you feel it too. I saw it in your eyes today. I saw it with my own eyes! I feel it and I know you feel it too! Sulrochil, what we have is love. You and me. This,” he waved his hand between them, “is love. Sulrochil, I -”  
  
“I feel nothing and I do not have anything more to say to you,” Sulrochil interrupted him in a cold voice.  
  
Then she turned and ran into the woods.  
  
Legolas stood there for a long time, hiding his face in his hands, feeling powerless. Any kind of outrage would have been better than this coldness. When he had run after her, he had anticipated she would blow up or shout at him. He was prepared for hearing obscenities. Even fighting or hitting him would have been better than this. He could deal with her yelling and fury, but he could not deal with her going away like this.  
  
Would he ever see her again? That was the only question in his mind when he felt her running further with every step. He almost ran after her, but he had promised her she could go. He could not face her tonight again when she made him feel a cruel ruler whose only intention was to confine her into a lifetime of misery.  
  
The only thing he could do was to walk slowly back to his sleeping mat and sit there all night contemplating whether she would ever would come back to him.  
  
Defeated, Legolas walked towards Lothlorien and suddenly decided to go and see their horses on a nearby meadow. The horses were already sleeping, but when they sensed the elf coming towards them, some of them lifted their heads. Two horses walked side by side towards Legolas, one light-coated, another darker.  
  
Just when Sulrochil went out of the range of their bond, Legolas lifted his hands and patted the horses, who gently surrounded him on both sides. She was out of the range, and he did not know if she ever would come back. Slowly, he slid his hand over Baraniel’s coat, feeling the horse’s warmth under his palm.  
  
The mare sensed the anguish of the elf and whinnied softly. She could not understand what had happened to make the elf so crestfallen. The air had been filled with hope during their journey, but now only disheartening sadness lingered on the meadow. The elf pressed his forehead against the neck of the horse, pouring his helplessness out of his soul.  
  
If there was even a thinnest thread between their souls, Sulrochil might hear him. “Sulrochil, please, come back.” He did not know if she could hear his words, but even if she did not hear him, it gave him the smallest amount of solace - the feeling of being able to do something at least. “Please, do not leave me.”  
  
Even if she heard the voice, she could refuse to listen to the words.  
  
She was gone, and he had no idea if she ever would come back. “Sulrochil, I will do anything to have you back. What do you need me to do?” There was likely nothing he could do but wait.  
  
What if she could not feel anything towards him anymore? What if her feelings were altogether lost? He had heard about those situations, and horrendous fear filled his heart, making him almost fall apart. “Please, do not let her be lost forever.” Never in his life had he felt so helpless. “Sulrochil, I can not continue living without you.” But he would have to continue living forever.  
  
For all eternity he would have to be alone, if she could not feel anything for him anymore. And - even a more horrendous thought filled his mind - Sulrochil would have to be alone eternally. How she could bear it? She had yearned for his protection, his closeness, how could her soul bear the unending loneliness? “Sulrochil, please come back.”  
  
All the time Legolas was painfully aware of her absence. Her indifferent eyes haunted him as the emptiness of her voice echoed in the sky.  
  
The mare listened to the sorrowful sentences and even if she did not understand all of the words, she understood the rueful distress in the heart of the elf and planted them safely into her heart.  
  
Also the trees caught  the whispers of the elf and deeply into their cores they tucked his sore words.  
  
  



	12. Pale Winter

The low breath of a lanky fox neared a hedgehog in the darkness of the forest, forcing the hedgehog to quickly roll into a tight ball. All of its spines pointed outwards, making the snout of the fox shy away from the sharp spikiness. Tail between her legs, the fox slunk away.  
  
The voices of the encounter reached Sulrochil’s ears and alarmed her enough to wake her from her shallow sleep. Trying to find some rest in her cloak swung up on a tall aspen near Lothlorien, she had once again tied her cloak around the trunk, only to endure the same ugly nightmare she had to face every night. Again she had felt her brother die; again she had sat with him until his hand was cold and until she had heard noises of elven patrols coming to seek the wounded and gather the dead. Swiftly she had tugged a pendant out of Helediron’s neck and tucked it safely into her pocket.  
  
Before anyone could see her, she snuck out of the battlefield of sacrifice. Over the dead bodies she ran, not daring to face the patrols. With the pendant she ran directly into Helediron’s house - only to find his wife already mourning for him.  
  
Merilinil sat on the floor, her eyes swollen with tears and the echoes of her cries filled the air with thick sorrow. On the floor was a broken glass; the glass she had been holding when her husband had taken his final breath in this world, ripping their souls apart and leaving her alone in a half life. His soul had been severed from hers and it was the end of time.  
  
The glass slipped from her hand, smashed into thousands of pieces, and scattered all over the floor.  
  
“Merilinil,” Sulrochil whispered, crouched beside the weeping elf, and put the tiny silvery jewel onto her palm. “I brought you his pendant. It does not bring him back, I am sorry.”  
  
Merilinil opened her palm and looked at the bloody pendant - in the shape of a nightingale. With shadowy eyes she turned to look at Sulrochil, and blinked. Not saying anything, she let her head fall down, making her hair flow limply on her shoulders and stared at the pendant for a moment, until she lifted it to her lips and gave it a kiss. _(merilin=nightingale)_  
  
Knowing she could not say anything that would provide solace for Merilinil, Sulrochil silently rose to her feet. She picked up the largest pieces of the glass and threw them into a bin. Quickly, she brushed the rest of the mess and when the floor was clean again, she cast a last glance at Merilinil. With a bloody stain on her lips she nodded to Sulrochil, knowing nothing could wipe away the pain in her heart.  
  
When Sulrochil ran away, she saw crimson blood oozing out of her forefinger. She understood the broken glass had made the gash but never could she understand why she had lived and not Helediron. Why had he needed to die, leaving Sulrochil drifting through the bleakness? It would have been better if Sulrochil would have gone instead of him and Helediron would have lived.   
  
Her life was meaningless. It had been that then, and even more now.  
  
In her cloak swing, up on a tree, Sulrochil woke from her reverie and saw blood dripping out of her finger. For a while she wondered if it was a remnant from sixty years ago, until she recalled she had been toying with her Messenger badge the whole night, wondering what she should do next, and been clutching the badge too hard in her palm because she had nothing else on which to hold. Not feeling any pain, she watched the blood seep out of the gash.  In her heart there was nothing but numbness. Everything had crumbled like the glass decades ago and no one could make the glass whole again.   
  
Why was it so cold?  
  
Impassively she watched the tiny dots appearing on her jerkin when the droplets of blood fell on it. She tried to reach her pocket for her handkerchief, but it was not there. Yesterday she had draped the cranberries into it and gave it to Legolas.   
  
All the time colder and colder.   
  
Pressing her palm on her jerkin she stopped the bleeding and she looked at the back of the badge, where the needle was attached. When she turned it around, ‘Th’ in the front shone in the starlight, making her certain she could not disobey her King’s orders. She had no inclination to go back to Mirkwood, but she had orders. “The embassy must travel back to Mirkwood together, it is the tradition.” She would perform her orders to the King proudly, give him back the messenger badge, bow to him and leave the King’s Hall and leave the whole Mirkwood.   
  
She did not understand why it was suddenly freezing out here.  
  
The branches of an aspen hummed softly while Sulrochil tried to listen to its wisdom, but could not hear anything but Legolas’ voice saying he had wanted that other. Sulrochil knew she could never love anybody else, but it did not matter anymore because she did not want anybody else. How had not wanting anyone changed into not wanting anybody except Legolas? It did not matter anymore, for she could not love anyone ever.  
  
Love is a powerful gift for two elves and it cannot be taken lightly.   
  
When she closed her eyes, she saw the reason for the coldness. It was snowing in her heart. As far as she could see, everything was hidden under a thick layer of snow and the blizzard thundered all over her soul, making the trees fall down, and all the time her soul number. The winter also took the light away; the light took colours away, leaving her stiffly swaying in the pale frost of her soul.   
  
In winter all the colours fade. Spring should bring the colours back to people. This year the spring does not come to her; the amount of light does not grow for her. Without colours she will walk her path in eternal winter for the rest of her life.   
  
In the never-ending winter she heard a noise that held some familiarity to her. As if someone was talking under the snow drifts. Turning her head around she tried to get a grasp of what she believed to be hearing. For a while - nothing, until a voice again. It sounded like words.  
  
But it was nothing; it could not be anything. There was no one - only the ice crumbling in the frost.  
  
Her soul was like a forest and the path towards him had been walked so often that it was easy to walk. The only clear path in the forest of her soul meandered between the mossy rocks from the dark shades of a spruce forest into the brightness of the lindens of lightest green. She knew the path even if it was now covered in the snow, like all of her soul.  
  
The snowfall also attacked the tall and fair trees of his and she knew she had no place in the upright nobility of them.  
  
From now on she should learn to forget that route and create new paths toward new places. She did not want to walk into the untouched snow and climb over fallen trees to find new ways. She looked at the well-trodden path, knowing in her soul that she should block that road and go elsewhere, but she did not want to explore the unknown. None of the other directions had any appeal to her and the familiar friendly path felt like the only way she wanted to go, but it was a dead end for her now.  
  
Not even the realization of being in a dead end made her feel anything. She tried to feel anger because of the impossibility of the situation, but instead felt nothing. Indifferently she realized she could not join the Mirkwood Embassy unnoticed by Legolas because of their Wardens’ Bond. If she made the not-in-danger signal, it was a message for him, and if she did not make it, it was an even more powerful message, forcing him to come and ask what is wrong.  
  
She had orders from him too. “I will wait for you tomorrow morning when we resume our journey towards home.” She did not want to go. Everything seemed wrong. Her soul was full of error. All she remembered from last night was how he had wanted that other all the time and the smiles on their faces had proven that he finally had gotten what he had always wished for.  
  
It meant Sulrochil was flawed. Whatever she had been feeling was false, leaving her soul in disorder and shame. In a way this all made sense. She was a solitary person; how could she have accepted someone else intruding her private space ever? It was better this way. She would be alone forever and eventually would find a way to deal with her humiliation.  
  
Lamely, she walked to the meadow close to Lothlorien to get her horse, making the not-in-danger signal as accurately as she could and paced in even steps; trying to give an impression nothing was wrong even though she was benumbed with cold.  
  
For him nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect for them, and giving her congratulations to them could wait. They would not need her words now. Sulrochil did not look at anyone and did not even glance at Eiliandes when she tried to talk to her. Keeping her eyes fixed at the ground, Sulrochil strode past her friend and hid herself behind her horse. Baraniel nudged her shoulder and reminded her of friendship. Quietly Sulrochil whispered into her mare’s ear that she would never leave her horse and their comradeship would last forever.   
  
The mare tried again; this time to remind the elf about the friendship she had for the other elf, but her whispers fell on deaf ears.  
  
Legolas began talking to the elves around him. In a flat tone he listed the riding order for their journey. It did not surprise anyone that he would lead the group, but no one understood why he had to name each elf and their position.   
  
“After me,” Legolas said, “the riding order is: Maegorodon, Gliriel, Glawaron, Eiliandes, Sulrochil, Thannor. Did I miss anyone, Eiliandes?”  
  
Eiliandes glanced at Sulrochil, if she could give any insight on the matter of the strangeness of everything, but her friend seemed to be overly interested in counting the strands of her horse’s mane, indicating she would remain silent. “No, Legolas,” Eiliandes said, “you did not miss anyone.”  
  
Soon Lothlorien was behind their backs. Along the shores of the great river Anduin they rode by the path which had been formed during the millennia worth of elves travelling between the two elven kingdoms. It was easy for the horses to gallop along the path and their journey proceeded quickly.  
  
The mood was grim, though. Eiliandes shared a worried look with Glawaron and it was not hard to guess what, or who, had caused Legolas’ despair. Those two elves who usually communicated in a way that lead people to believe they could read each other’s minds, were behaving this morning as if the other did not exist at all.  
  
Eiliandes watched her friend with concern. Usually she was happy with a curious smile on her face, but now her eyes were spiritless and her whole demeanour so stolid, that it numbed Eiliandes’ soul. She had seen in the morning how Sulrochil avoided Legolas. He on the other hand had seemed so distraught and lost that it was obvious something had happened between them. But what? And why? They had seemed so content together in Lothlorien.  
  
Baraniel galloped in her usual position in front of Thannor’s horse, and Sulrochil was watching the forest, should there be orcs or other foul creatures. She was watching the skies, should there be something evil flying above. She was also watching the river, should there be something swimming. The only direction in which she was not looking was towards the other riders in their group.   
  
Something in the list of elves Legolas had named begun nagging her in the back of her mind.   
  
She contemplated what Legolas had said to her last night. For elves love is a sacred thing, you can love only once in a lifetime, as long as it is. She had begun to believe what was between her and Legolas would be love. She saw that clearly now, but all hope was in vain. She bid bittersweet farewells to the beauty of love she almost had for the briefest of times.  
  
Never had she wanted love, and never would she get it.   
  
Sulrochil tried to forget Legolas, but it was impossible as she could not stop sensing his location. His exact location was blinking all the time like a bright spot in her mind. Usually it brought her safety, comfort and even joy, but not today. Not anymore. It mocked her, forcing her to face her flawed soul.  
  
When this whole ordeal was finished, she should go away from him. To a place so far  in such a distant corner of the world that he could not find her. She even thought about sailing to the undying lands, but it had no appeal to her. It was not her time yet.  
  
Evening came and they stopped in the forest a fair ways away from the river. Legolas had contemplated how he would decide the watch turns, for he knew the best in the watch would be Sulrochil, but he did not want to give orders to her. Glawaron and Eiliandes were both good, but Legolas needed Eiliandes free from watch turns so she could perhaps talk some sense into Sulrochil’s mind. There still were numerous orc groups here and there, even if the war was over and in the watch should be the best people.   
  
If giving more orders for Sulrochil to obey forced her to stay in the group, he would not be above using the trick, besides he wanted to say her name aloud. “Glawaron takes the first watch, I will take the second and Sulrochil the last,” Legolas said tersely and began brushing his horse, indicating the discussion was over.  
  
Feeling dejected, the elves began tending to their horses, making the animals restless as well.   
  
Eiliandes took both her own horse and her husband’s mount too, when Glawaron did as he had been ordered and began his watch. For some time Eiliandes brushed the horses, glancing all the time at Sulrochil, trying to see what she would do. When she realized her friend had no intention of doing anything but tend to her horse, Eiliandes decided she had to do something.  
  
Briskly, she walked to Sulrochil and said, “This is not like you! Not at all! You never hold grudges. You blast and flash and after a brief moment you crawl back begging for forgiveness. I have seen that too many times! I understand you could not have talked to him while we were riding, but now - now you must go talk to Legolas.”  
  
“I will not interrupt them,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“Them?” Eiliandes wondered, and glanced in his direction. “Legolas is alone.”  
  
“Well, everyone is tending to their horses alone.”  
  
“I can take care of your horse - and his horse too - if it takes that. Go talk to him! Now!”  
  
“I have nothing to say to him,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“Whatever he has done, it is not worth this.”  
  
“It is not what he has done but what has happened to him.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” EIliandes asked, truly baffled.  
  
“I will not tell you about this.”  
  
“If you do not tell me, I will go and ask him.”  
  
“No, you will not!” Sulrochil exclaimed and repeated her words in a hushed tone, shooting glances in every direction, “no, you will not.”  
  
“I will,” Eiliandes said. “It is your choice. Either you tell me or he will.”  
  
“How can you not understand? This is about what I revealed to you yesterday. Please, do not mention it to anyone. It was wrong and you should understand it yourself when you look at them.”  
  
“Them? He is alone. He has been alone all the time and he is so aggravated that no one dares to approach him. I have no idea what you really are talking about. What is wrong?” She waited for a moment and when Sulrochil did not reply, Eiliandes continued in a gentle tone and put her hand on Sulrochil’s shoulder, “You do not have to tell me anything, if you do not want to. Please, just go and talk to him. He is waiting for you.”  
  
“He is not waiting for me, but someone else.”  
  
  
“Who?” Again, Eiliandes waited for a moment and after not getting a reply from her friend she listed the names of all elves present, counting them with her fingers. “Maegorodon, Gliriel, Glawaron and Thannor are here, in addition to us. Who is Legolas waiting for?”  
  
“Is she not here? Why?”  
  
“Who? Sulrochil, who is not here?”  
  
“Tauriel.”  
  
  
“Of course she is not here. She is in Lothlorien like she should be. I did not hear she wished to join us today. Why would she be here?”  
  
“Why indeed? I do not understand this at all.”  
  
“It is me who does not understand a word of what you are babbling. You are not making any sense. Why would Tauriel be here, and what does she have to do with whatever is between you and Legolas?”  
  
“Is she truly not here?” Sulrochil asked, lifting her eyes to her friend for the first time.  
  
“No, she is not here.”  
  
“But I saw it with my own eyes…”  
  
“What did you see?”  
  
  
“I saw love in their eyes when they looked at each other.”  
  
“Love? Of course you saw love, because they evidently both love someone, but how could that be a problem?” Eiliandes asked and continued after a brief pause, looking deeply at Sulrochil’s eyes, “That is the problem! Sulrochil, do you really believe what I think you believe? Of course you believe that! Of course you misunderstood everything if you tried to trust your reasoning and not your feelings! Oh, Sulrochil, you should never reason your way out of anywhere, when are you going to finally understand that?”  
  
“But I saw how they looked at each other and smiled.”  
  
“It is clear for everyone what is between you and Legolas. Clear for everyone except you, of course! Alright, let us start from the beginning: you saw what you saw, there was love in their eyes and they smiled. Legolas was smiling yesterday for the whole day. He was happy, so of course he was smiling! Everyone saw that, but what happened after that? Did they seem joyous and go away together happily ever-after, like they should have if it was true what you believe?”  
  
“No, I ran away before it.”  
  
“And that was it?”  
  
“No, Legolas came after me and -”  
  
“I knew it!” Eiliandes interrupted Sulrochil and pointed at her friend’s chest with her forefinger. “What did he tell you?”  
  
“He told old stories about how close they had been and how he had wished… I will not repeat those things now.”  
  
“Wishing for something is not forbidden! Anyone knows they were close, neither is that forbidden. Being close to someone is a good thing, but far from loving that person. They are not even close, but let us not get into that now. So, did he tell you what really happened 60 years ago?”  
  
“He said something about a dwarf who was one of them who arrived in Mirkwood back then and he claimed Tauriel had fell in love with the dwarf -”  
  
“A dwarf!” Eiliandes exclaimed and hid her face in her palms for a brief moment. “Now I begin to understand this. Poor Tauriel! A dwarf… oh, how dreadful this must be for her, loving a mortal... Now I understand why she has not sailed, but stayed in this world even though her heart is ripped apart due to lost love.”  
  
“Do you believe that she loves the dwarf?” Sulrochil whispered.  
  
“Of course she loves the dwarf! What else but loving a mortal could cause that kind of misery to an elf? I could never wish that kind of a destiny for anyone. Poor Tauriel…” Eiliandes silenced for a moment, “but I still do not understand why you did not believe him? It is the truth. It is clear for everyone who sees you and Legolas together what is between you two.”  
  
“I feel nothing. I saw how they looked at each other and how they smiled. Their smiles lightened the whole of Lothlorien yesterday; and darkened my soul. Everything is clear to me. Whatever I felt earlier, was wrong. I saw it with my own eyes.”  
  
“Sulrochil, if you wish to use your eyes on this matter, look at Legolas now. Do you see someone who just got back together with someone he lost decades ago?”  
  
Sulrochil stared at her toes.  
  
“Look at him now, Sulrochil,” Eiliandes said and tried gently to turn Sulrochil’s head and force her to cast her eyes for a brief moment on Legolas, but she refused and Eiliandes continued, “If you do not look at him, I will describe to you what I see. I see an elf sitting on a rock, counting berries on his palm. If I did not recognize his face I would not know who he was, because he is not himself at all. Where has his usual air of confidence gone? Why has the light disappeared out of his eyes, and why is there an invisible barrier around him telling us all ‘do not approach’? Oh, but I see a narrow gap in his barricade, a gap so small that only the tiniest of the elves could enter. You can find it on his left side, very close to his heart. He is waiting for you; forever he will wait for you. Sulrochil, look at him now.”  
  
Sulrochil hid herself more closely behind Baraniel, making it clear she would not do as her friend requested.  
  
“If you saw love in his eyes yesterday, it was for you. Use your head for once,” Eiliandes said for her friend. “Or forget that! Whatever you do, do not use your head! Whenever you try to reason, you only lead yourself deeper into confusion. So, Sulrochil, seek for the answer in your heart. Feel what is in there.”  
  
“My heart is empty. The forest took it all away.”  
  
“Then go back to the woods and ask for it back.”  
  
“I do not know the way,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“Go to the forest, Sulrochil,” Eiliandes said. “The forest is your home. The forest is your sanctuary. Go there and ask the trees for help, even if you do not know the way. Seek the truth in the sanctity of the forest. Look at the foliage; listen to what the leaves have to say to you; let the rightfulness breeze into your heart. Love cannot be forced, you must free your soul.”  
  
*  
  
In the middle of the night, Legolas was keeping watch standing by the river and listening carefully, as it was so dark he could not see far. He wondered whether Sulrochil was sleeping. She always had to sleep more than him. A lot less than mortals, though, but she should sleep at least a bit every night. He could stay awake for days or even weeks, but not Sulrochil. That is why she had learned to sleep in her cloak swing on trees, and that is why Legolas always ended up keeping night watch much more than Sulrochil, and it lead her to berating him for not waking her up for her watch. How he would be thrilled if she would be here just to yell at him. Anything but this never-ending chill.  
  
Legolas smiled inwardly as an image of Sulrochil asleep in her swing on a tall dark green spruce filled his mind. But he knew she had not climbed a tree tonight, but sat instead beside a rock and he doubted that she actually slept. Probably not. He tried to shake the image out of his mind, but it was impossible.  
  
Impossible was also the whole situation; there was nothing he could do. All he could do was wait and it irritated him. There was always something he could do, he was meant to be able to find ways to deal with difficulties, but now his hands were tied. He always found the way to fight against the odds, except now. Everything he could do was futile, or even harmful - and it made him furious.  
  
After Sulrochil had left him last night, he had feared he would never see her again. In the morning when she had come back it had shocked him. He had believed her to be too stubborn to return, but then he had recalled her horse; Sulrochil would never leave her horse. Him, she could leave apparently without second thoughts, but Baraniel was so precious to her she would never abandon the mare. For a moment he could not be sure if she only came back to get her horse and ride away, but soon it was evident she would stay. She was loyal, and it was probably also her loyalty to the King’s orders that made her join the embassy. Whatever the reason was, a small hope tried to find its way into his heart.   
  
Forcefully he shoved the tiny seed of hope out, because she was still too far and he had no idea if the loyalty included him as well, or if he was destined to face the eternal coldness alone. He had not dared to speak directly to Sulrochil in the morning, because he did not wish to hear the honorifics in her speech and see the subdued look in her eyes, but he had no idea if she had listened to what he had spoken with Eiliandes about.  
  
When she had returned to the range of their Wardens’ Bond, he had not recognize her spirit anymore. Normally her speed varied because of her emotions. She could pace forward steadily until her speed slowed out of the blue when she was deeply thinking about something, and then suddenly she almost jumped forward when she was enthralled about something. He could decipher her moods by her pace, but now the colours were gone - all the time she walked at the same monotonous speed, altogether without twists and turns. Without her bubbly spirit he was walking in the pale winter of his soul.  
  
He sensed her approaching and tensed. She stood rigidly several feet away next to him and her eyes were fixed straight into the dark forest ahead of them. She did not say anything, and did not move. Legolas considered talking to her, but decided against it. It pained his heart, but he had no choice but leave her keeping watch and go somewhere else saying, “Have a peaceful watch.”  
  
“Thank you, my Lord,” she replied in an even tone and bowed.  
  
He would not sleep, though. He would just sit under a tree and wait for the morning, Sulrochil’s words tormenting him all the while. Her refusal of considering him as her equal hurt him almost more than anything else. It was her way of saying from here on he means nothing, nothing at all, except a person to whom she should bow and look up to. In a way it would have been better to hear her snarky voice using the proper title to address her Prince, because even acidic feelings would have been feelings. Now she was merely a pale imitation of herself.  
  
Legolas sat on the ground with his bow in his hand and felt a vast desolation in his heart. He still had the dried cranberries in his pocket. He ate one, remembering how soft she had felt in his arms when she had hugged him yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It felt like a thousand years had passed. Suddenly he felt empty; without her on his side, his fate was to walk the deserted path alone forever.  
  
He had to give her time to come back to him, she always needed time to sort things out, but he could not wait for long; would not wait for long. Soon he would ask her to come back. He would do anything to get her back. Watching the small, red cranberries on his palm he recalled the smile in Sulrochil’s eyes when she had given them to him. He would eat one berry a night and after the berries would be gone, he would go to talk to her. There were four of them.  
  
Four berries and Sulrochil’s handkerchief, were all he had.  
  
After the berries were gone, he would return the tiny white piece of cloth to her and beg her to come back. “Here is my peace offering. I have nothing more to give to you than this piece of cloth - and my soul. It is yours to take. There is a breach between our souls and you are afraid to jump, but I will catch you if you fall. Forever I will be here to catch you if you fall. Forever you will be the one having a hold on my soul and you will be the one to decide my destiny, our destiny. Take my hand and I will get you.“  
  
Legolas looked at the back of his hand. He turned the hand around and stared at the hollow of his palm, wondering if she would ever hear him; if she ever would take the leap; if she would trust him to be there for her.  
  
*  
  
The following morning when the last watch ended, Sulrochil sensed Legolas moving. He made their come-here signal. Normally it meant she would go at once to him, for they used it only in extreme situations. Normally she would make sure she got to him, because it meant he was in a situation which needed her immediate presence. Normally she would drop all she was doing and run to him. Today she walked slowly to Baraniel, brushed her gently and talked to the horse waiting for the others to come.   
  
The mare reminded her again about the friendship and now Sulrochil understood the message, but the road to him was smothered by deep snow.  
  
The river flowed slowly and the rising sun glimmered on its surface, the beauty of it taunting Sulrochil’s soul. How many times had there been a morning like this when she had watched the sparkly Forest River with her patrol partner? It would be better to forget his name altogether.  
  
Millions of leaves in thousands of different green hues surrounded her from every direction, there could be no way to ever forget him. How she could ever be content again in a forest seeing all the different leaves of oaks, aspens, lindens? The green leaves of birches, willows and maples. Did he have to take from her also her dearest joy of breathing a fresh forest air with the scent of green leaves and suffocate her with ugly grey darkness?  
  
The morning came, everybody got on their horses and the journey continued again. Seven horses ran by the river Anduin. A swan couple flew above the river, magnificent white birds who form lifelong bonds. The unknown lay ahead.  
  
Two days went by like this. It was two days worth of pale coldness. Each night Sulrochil had her nightwatch after Legolas, and at neither night did she hear him say anything when she began her watch. And at each morning Sulrochil sensed his come-here signal. She never went to him, neither did she follow Eiliandes’ advice of seeking the answers from the trees. She did not dare enter the sanctity of the forest, but searched every night for a rock. By the rock she stayed every night, the uproar of the blizzard racketing in her heart.  
  
The forest was sacred, and she had no place there anymore. How could she enter the green holiness?   
  
What she did not see, was the snowfall slowly ceasing. Every moment the thunder eased, the wind abated, making way for the first signs of the spring of her heart.


	13. Forest, My Sanctuary

“What now?!” Sulrochil shouted silently in her mind, glaring deeply at the dark forest in front of her as she listened to the cacophony of her soul. It was as if her soul was crumbling into pieces and she was afraid to take a closer look at it.   
  
Horrible noise came from her soul - its innermost corners were smashing and the sound made her ears hurt, “Have I not repented enough? Why must my soul be torn into pieces? Please, forgive me. I know I have done wrong. I know I have let my mind wander into inappropriate thoughts and I regret it. Please, save my soul.”  
  
The roaring thunder did not cease, but severed something in her soul, forcing her to face the blasting. When she finally dared to look at the sight in her soul, she realized it was not her soul itself that was shattering.  
  
The ice was breaking up in the river of her soul.  
  
The winter in her soul had frozen everything, and now the breakup made the river flow again. Huge blocks of ice were moving slowly, destroying everything in its path, making way for something new; making way for the spring.  
  
The river was singing. Sulrochil leaned closer against the rock behind her. Every night during their journey from Lothlorien towards Mirkwood she had searched for the ugliest rock for the night and sat beside it; the snow and frost rampaging in her soul; freezing everything and numbing her heart. But now, for the first time in ages, she lifted her head and looked at the Anduin River that was peacefully flowing behind the trees.  
  
The forest was standing sentinel around the elf, holding its breath.   
  
Sulrochil stood up and walked closer to the river. This river was not frozen, the water was flowing smoothly in the river she could see with her eyes. The contrast to the river of her soul was huge. She sat next to the river bank and listened to the booming noise of the ice breakup of the river flowing inside her soul.  
  
She knew the forest, she knew the river, could they help her? She knew where the wind blew; where the squirrels hid their acorns. She knew the secrets of the night frogs, but she did not know how to settle the uproar of her soul.  
  
The spring was coming but she did not know how to sing its melody.  
  
The life always won in spring. “The life is here and now”, the birds were twittering its message, but she did not see it.   
  
Why did the starflowers dare to bloom? There could be frost again. Spring was always unpredictable. The temperature could leap suddenly down and let the freezing chill blow all around the forest, making the tiny flowers die. Yet, the starflowers did not fear it. “The life is here and now”, they were chanting, “this is our time. This is the only time we have.” The forest called them by name into the spring.  
  
The forest did not demand anything from the elf. The river did not force her into anything. The trees opened a path for her. The spring was here and the trees called her by her name. “Sulrochil, this is your time. The life is here.” The leaves were whispering her name, inviting her into the holiness of the forest. “This is the only time you have.”  
  
The forest was her sanctuary; the river her wash basin. Slowly, she scooped water from the river and splashed it onto her face. With steady movements she washed her face clean. When she dried her cheeks on her sleeve, it occurred to her that she should go and get her handkerchief finally back. She needed it, and she needed him.  
  
She needed him. The yearning for his closeness filled her soul and she lowered her head and let the forest comfort her. The forest wind carried the seeds of the spring into her heart.  
  
When she lifted her head and looked at the river again, everything was anew. The uproar of her soul had subsided, only small blocks of ice floating peacefully in her river. The riverbank was full of marsh-marigolds, shining their headstrong hope everywhere. “Stop being afraid of what could go wrong and concentrate on things that could be right,” they lectured in their cheerfully yellow voice, ignoring the ever-present threat of blackberry winter.  
  
Colours, she thought. There were colours now in her world and she heard the talk of the spruce needles in the forest, they were asking her to enter the sanctuary. She heard the songs of the pine cones, reminding her that her soul was a cone too - full of seeds waiting to become something new.  
  
The forest provided her with fresh air. The darkness had fallen and light began to make the forest green again.  
  
If only she dared to take the leap and trust that spring could come for her too. If only she could trust the spring like the otter that was gliding in the river, searching for a place for her holt. It annoyed her that she was afraid; more afraid than the otter, more afraid than the starflowers. She was angry that she had misinterpreted everything. White, pure anger filled her soul when she realized what he had done to her and forced her to feel ashamed of something that was not at all her fault. It was his fault. He had been the one doing the wrongful deeds! He should not have had the inappropriate thoughts about someone he did not love. Why had he done this? Why had he dared to wish something with someone even if there had been no hope of love? What had made him to behave in this inappropriate way?  
  
This all was his fault and his misdeeds had made her seem like to culprit, and it infuriated her. Swiftly, she rose up and almost ran towards him to pour all her fury on him. But something held her back. Furiously, she strode towards a cliff covered with purple heathers and she was too tired to try to understand why she was full of rage, as she lied down.  
  
The forest had made a soft bed of heathers for the weary elf.   
  
Everything hurled in her mind. She remembered every smile of Legolas, and could see his every feature when she closed her eyes. She could hear his voice in her head and at the same time the voice was both the dearest thing to her, and yet gave the most racking pain. She could hear his voice and get lost in it, but at the same time she wanted to lose all traces of that voice in her mind.  
  
She recalled every word he had said to Tauriel on the last night in Lothlorien and the images of all their smiles formed in the shadows. What was the meaning of it? Deep down in her mind she heard a small voice saying, she could go and ask him the reason. But she would not want to hear the reason if it meant losing him forever.  
  
Only then did it occur to her that she did not want to lose him forever and even if she had thought to have left him once and for all, she really had not. If she would have wanted that, she would have thrown the foolish Messenger badge to the Anduin River and rode her horse to anywhere but Mirkwood. Still, something stopped her from going to Legolas and she could not fathom the reason why.  
  
It all just spun in her mind, and the mental exhaustion brought her the vision she had seen every night for the last sixty years. Ever since that horrible day on the battlefield after the Battle of the Five Armies sixty years ago when she had lost the only sibling she ever had. He had not been a brother of blood, but of mind and soul, and she lost him.   
  
Also tonight the vision of her brother came into Sulrochil’s mind, the horrible wounds all over his body, but when she turned to look at his face, it was not the face she had seen dying every night for sixty years but a totally different face. A face with lively blue eyes, and these eyes were looking at Sulrochil as if saying, “please, do not leave me”.   
  
The hair was not brown, but of the most beautiful silvery blond colour and the hair was scattered messily on the battlefield getting dirty with the mud. “There is a breach between our souls and you are afraid to jump, but I will catch you if you fall. Take my hand and I will never let you go,” he said and Sulrochil looked at his hand which he was faintly offering to her.  
  
She took it and felt that this hand was not of a brother, and the grip of it on her hand was not of a brother. Sulrochil felt it both on her hand and in her soul. It was like the grip of Legolas’ hand reached all the way into her soul and took a firm hold in there, and said, “Forever you will be the one having a hold on my soul and you will be the one to decide my destiny, our destiny.”  
  
Sulrochil sat there on the muddled battlefield holding Legolas’ hand and watching his eyes fade away and even in the last moments she saw the message in his eyes, “Sulrochil, forever I will be here to catch you if you fall.” She sat in the battlefield holding Legolas’ hand crying uncontrollably. She looked at the arrow in his chest and it felt like the arrow had gone through her own heart and split her soul in million pieces. Her soul mourned for the lost love. Tears were falling all over her face and she felt her life end. “Legolas,” she whispered.  
  
She tightened her grip on his hand, looked at his eyes for the last time and jumped. He tugged her into his embrace, just as he was dying - and they both died. Their old selves died, making way for the brand new. Together they went into the unknown, and he did not let her fall.  
  
Their shared path awaited them. They bade farewells to their old existences, and took the first steps towards their new reality.  
  
Whatever there was, she could not live without him anymore. She stayed there on the heather bed still for a some time letting her tears dry away. It was still Glawaron’s watch turn, and she knew she must go to Legolas before his watch began. She did not know what to say. Maybe there were no right words. She would say the wrong words, then, but she needed the answer for her questions, which had risen her fury for the past days.   
  
Legolas was not far, and Sulrochil began walking towards him. It was not long until she sensed he began walking slowly towards her, as if asking “are you really coming to me?” Sulrochil kept her pace as if meaning “aye, I am”.  
  
Legolas stepped into her vision from behind a tree, small wind twirled his hair and he turned to look at Sulrochil. Their eyes met and this time she did not turn her gaze away. He looked shattered and his face was stricken with grief.  
  
“Legolas, I would like to talk to you. Could you come with me, please? We need to get a bit further so no one will hear us.”  
  
He did not answer, as he did not trust his voice, but only nodded and walked in the direction away from the others. Soon, they found a huge ancient oak and sat beside it side by side, both leaning to the tree behind them and leaving a safe gap between them.  
  
Neither said anything for a long time, until Sulrochil began, “I do not know what I should say. I do not have the words. I only knew I had to come to you.”  
  
“I am glad you came,” Legolas said with a slight tremble in his voice.  
  
“I am angry at you,” she stated.  
  
“Why are you angry at me?” he asked calmly.  
  
“You very well know why,” her voice raised a bit.  
  
“Please, tell me why you are angry.”  
  
“Do you really want me to say it aloud?” She was now very upset.  
  
“Aye, I want you to say it,” a little shift in the tone of his voice revealed his anger.   
  
“You had something with her.” She wanted to get him furious, to show his anger, to fight.  
  
She wanted a fight, a good old shouting match hoping that would purify this horrible bitterness. Anything to wipe out her dismay. One harsh word from him that would give her reason to blow up and get mad. To scream and shout out the fury she felt.  
  
He did not get baited, though, only answered in a calm manner, “No, I did not have anything with her.”  
  
“You said that in Lothlorien,” she was frustrated at his placidness.  
  
“No, I did not say anything like that,” he still did not get provoked, but spoke quietly, almost whispering.  
  
“You said you wanted her,” Sulrochil said and would have wanted to shout, to scream, but his calmness began settling her anger. His peaceful posture next to her mellowed her fury.  
  
“Aye, I wanted something to happen with her, but it did not happen. Nothing happened. What I had with her could have seemed to the others to be different than it really was. Many people saw us together and they might believe I had stronger feelings towards her. Trust me, there are people who would want to hurt me, and soon they would realize they could hurt me most by hurting you. It is good that you aware of this now and know nothing happened, no matter what anyone else would be claiming. It is good that this came up before we got back to Mirkwood. You needed to hear this all before everything.”  
  
“What feelings you had?” she asked and listening to his familiar voice made the remnants of her rage dissipate in the air and she could not understand how he had done it.  
  
“At the time I thought I had strong feelings, but afterwards I realized I did not know her well enough to feel anything real. So all feelings I had were towards my own imaginative version of her. She never wanted to really open up and that meant I did not know her truly. Part of the reason was that she was my subordinate, but mostly it was that she did not want it.”  
  
Sulrochil grimaced hearing all this, but decided not to get baited. “It is hard to be friends with your superior; I have never been able to do it.”  
  
“There was one time when she almost shot my father and I defended her,” Legolas said, and leant his head back against the tree behind them.  
  
“Of course you defended her!” Sulrochil exclaimed, and turned to look at him.  
  
“What do you mean by ‘of course’?” he asked, glancing back at her. “I did not even mention the reason.”  
  
“I did not need the reason, because I know you,” Sulrochil said and realized it was the truth. She knew him and it felt good. “You always defend everybody. You defended me on our first day in the Marchwarden training camp when we had not known each other even a hour.”  
  
“Sulrochil, nothing happened between me and her, like I said, and I am glad about it.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because then I would never have met you.”  
  
“But you wanted her.”  
  
“That was before I met you. I cannot make it undone. Aye, I wanted to find someone. Is that wrong? I wanted to find someone and now I have found you. Now I want only you.”   
  
Legolas heard her inhaling deeply and continued, “I mean it. Sulrochil, I know who you are, and because of that I want you. I know you best, you are a good friend, always loyal, I can trust you. You make me feel things I never even knew existed, and these feelings are only for you.  I also know your worst, I have been through it for many days now, but I still want you. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”  
  
Sulrochil was silent for a while and then sighed and said unenthusiastically, “I am still angry at you.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“What? You cannot mean it is good if I am angry.”  
  
“If you are angry at me, it means you have feelings for me. I can take your anger, I can take your fury and yelling and accusing me of anything. I can take whatever feelings you have for me. But what I cannot take is your withdrawal. I was so afraid I had lost you forever and you could not feel anything anymore towards me. I do not want you to leave  from me. And I know you do not want that either.”  
  
“How can you be so sure about that?”  
  
“You would have just gone away if you really wanted it. The fact that you came to talk to me tells me you want to solve this with me.”  
  
Sulrochil went silent again. “I… I believe I need to think about all this that you said to me,” she finally mumbled.  
  
“I will go now, so you can do your thinking,” Legolas said and stood up. Before he began walking away, he turned for a moment, “Sulrochil, please, come back to me when you are ready.”  
  
He left and did not hear anymore when she quietly answered, “I will.”  
  
Soon after he had left she fell on the ground on her stomach, hid her head in her arms and wept. She cried for her own stupidity and stubbornness. How had she seen things that did not exist?  
  
Sulrochil recalled Eiliandes’ words about how to recognize love, “you feel it in your mind, body and soul”. Only today had she felt it in her soul, when she had seen the image of Legolas’ dying body in her mind; when he had gotten ahold of her soul. Before that she had felt the love only in her mind and in her body, but now that she felt it in her soul, she knew there was no way to ever undo it.  
  
Spruce needles pierced the last layer of resistance covering her soul and began embroidering her soul with the tiny threads of love. For too long she had been lost and circling in the darkest corners of her soul, not finding the way out. Now she had a point in the horizon onto which she could fix her eyes. She would walk towards it and would not get lost again.  
  
The love was now in her soul, but it felt so fragile even to admit to herself, not to mention saying it aloud to Legolas. Her heart was still sore from all of the grief and pain she had had. She knew Legolas had felt it in his soul some time before her and he must have had the most agonizing pain when he had feared to be lost Sulrochil forever. That must have been the reason he had not mentioned love again.  
  
She should go to Legolas, admit her love and finally let him out of his misery. Let them both out of it.  
  
She should go at once. She would go at once. The only thing she needed to do is to get up and walk to him. He was not far. This place felt safe. The oak radiated safety. The moss under her body was soft and she did not remember the last time she had slept properly. Blissful peace surrounded her, her eyes closed, Legolas had been right here in this spot making it feel safe...  
  
*  
  
Something large, warm and wet was intruding Sulrochil’s face. She was alarmed awake at once and was already grabbing her bow until she realized it was Baraniel’s muzzle. Sulrochil rose up, patted her horse looking at every direction trying to see what was going on. It was not dark anymore. The sun had not risen, so it was not dawn yet, but the sky seemed too light. She heard the others moving around and getting their horses ready maybe 200 yards away.  Legolas’ location was also there, he was not moving so he must be waiting for something.  
  
The realization dawned upon Sulrochil. She had slept the whole night undisturbed and it was time to continue their journey. She grabbed Baraniel’s bridle and began walking towards the others, making the not-in-danger-signal hoping Legolas would understand the true meaning of it.  
  
Of course, Legolas felt Sulrochil moving and he smiled inwardly. Sulrochil had felt safe enough to sleep and he had let her sleep through her watch turn. A little hope began flickering in his mind when he sensed her signal. He tried not to read more to the meaning of the signal as it was, but it was hard because her usual gait was back now. The tiny shifts in her speed, revealed him more than he dared to hope.  
  
Sulrochil decided to stay quite far from Legolas, as she would not want to talk to him during their ride as it would be impossible to say what she wanted to say while riding. Or, perhaps saying it would be possible, but what would happen after it… No, she wanted to say it while she was standing very close to him - and when no one was watching them.  
  
The journey began, and they resumed their usual positions: Legolas first, after him Maegorodon, Gliriel, Glawaron, Eiliandes, Sulrochil and Thannor, who came last. It was the first traveling day since leaving Lothlorien when Sulrochil actually enjoyed their journey, and she felt utmost joy riding her magnificent mare. They had been together for ten years now and Sulrochil had had dozens of horses before Baraniel, but it was clear this mare was one of the best she ever had.  
  
Sulrochil watched the beautiful river on her right side and the shores on the other side of the river, tall green aspens swaying slowly in the wind. A couple of woodpeckers were making holes in the trunks of the aspens and the sound of it made her smile.  
  
Not even the rain could ruin Sulrochil’s mood. The rainfall was modest at first but then it began to grow heavier and they had to slow down their speed. Fortunately they could at least continue their ride, even though soon everyone was soaking wet.  
  
Something evil was stirring on north-west, Sulrochil felt it in her bones. Most likely orcs. She took her bow in her hand, as did all the other elves. The horses were restless, and the riders had to reassure the animals to continue their walking in the heavy pouring.  
  
*  
  
Suddenly Legolas saw the orcs which he had felt coming for a some time now. At once he shot his first arrow, killing the first orc but the forest was so dense and the rain too heavy. He could not see how many orcs there were until they were very close. He shot two of them while riding, but after realizing there were more and more orcs coming, he decided to let his horse loose to get somewhere safe. He tried to kill as many orcs as he could.  
  
The arrows flew from the elven bows towards the orcs, and there were more orcs coming towards them. Legolas ran out of the arrows and he used his knife to kill the orcs as did Maegorodon by his side. Eiliandes and Glawaron were a bit further fighting the orcs, but the three other elves were to be seen nowhere. He had not seen Gliriel, Thannor or Sulrochil since the beginning of the attack; neither did Legolas sense Sulrochil’s location anymore, but he could not think about it until all of the orcs were down.  
  
Both Legolas and Maegorodon moved smoothly between the orcs and were fighting the huge orcs fiercely with rage. Finally the two elves were the only ones standing on the battlefield. Everything was muddled in the heavy rain and both Legolas and Maegorodon were dripping wet and covered with mud.  
  
“Where is everybody else?” Legolas asked Maegorodon, alarmed, turning his head trying to listen, but the rain fogged his hearing.  
  
“Gliriel went hiding when she ran out of the arrows, and is somewhere safe, but I do not know about the others,” Maegorodon replied looking in every direction, but saw no one.  
  
“I am here,” Gliriel came soon into their vision, as did Glawaron and Eiliandes, wiping their weapons clean.  
  
“Where are Thannor and Sulrochil?” Eiliandes asked.  
  
“I cannot sense Sulrochil’s location,” Legolas said anxiously, “I lost the contact almost at once when the orcs attacked and I have not seen Thannor either.”  
  
“When the orcs attacked,” Eiliandes said, “Thannor’s horse was refusing to proceed and he was left behind. Sulrochil tried to help, but when I began shooting I did not see nor hear them anymore.”  
  
“Gliriel,” Legolas said tersely, “go pull the arrows and try to gather the horses. All others go back our tracks and try to find Thannor and Sulrochil.”  
  
It was easier said than done; all of the tracks were muddled. Every place was wet and there were puddles all over the place. It was impossible to track anything in this weather so the elves just walked slowly, leaving a good distance between them in order to cover an area as large as possible.  
  
They saw dozens of orc bodies lying in the mud and all of them grabbed some arrows for their quivers when walking past them. They did not have to search for long when Glawaron said in a sad voice, “Legolas, come here.”  
  
Legolas dashed towards him fearing for the worst when he saw Glawaron bowing slightly and putting his hand on his heart. It was Thannor.   
  
Legolas also bowed for the dead body of Thannor lying on the ground in a largish puddle, his blood making the water red. The red streams ran in every directions and Legolas began feeling very perturbed.   
  
“We need to find Sulrochil,” Glawaron said, his eyes darting in every direction. Eiliandes was a bit further rushing from tree to tree, trying to find her friend. Maegorodon’s figure was seen even further than her, and even his usually calm manner began faltering when they did not find Sulrochil anywhere.  
  
“I know,” Legolas said. He yanked the black arrow out of the Thannor’s chest, hit it angrily against his knee. The arrow split into two pieces and he threw the parts viciously to the ground, inhaling deeply. Then he turned his black eyes to Glawaron saying, “We need to find Sulrochil.”  
  
Legolas and other elves resumed their searching and soon they reached the place where the attack had begun. They found orc bodies here and there, but no sign of Sulrochil anywhere.  
  
“This is Sulrochil’s arrow,” Legolas said pulling it out of one dead orc. He looked it as if it could give answers, but it did not give any. “We need to cover a larger area.”  
  
“Aye,” Glawaron said and all elves searched between the trees and rocks. They walked beside the river and through the tall grass. They looked in every nook in which a tiny elf could fit, but found nothing, not even the smallest trace.  
  
Legolas was getting anxious and Glawaron felt sorry for their leader. He had naturally seen there had been a major disagreement between Legolas and Sulrochil during the whole journey from Lothlorien, until this morning when Legolas almost had smiled. Something clearly had happened during the night, but now Sulrochil was gone.  
  
Gliriel ran towards the other elves with a bunch of arrows in her lap and said, “I found one of Thannor’s arrows and two Sulrochil’s arrows, the rest are yours.” She gave a bunch of arrows to everyone. “The horses are not far, they are pasturing on a nearby meadow. All except Baraniel.”  
  
“Gliriel, have you already seen Thannor?” Maegorodon asked gently, looking at Gliriel.  
  
“No,” Gliriel said, lifting her head up and turning it around into her husband’s eyes. She felt Maegorodon’s sorrow for Thannor at once and began crying, clinging herself onto Maegorodon hugging him hopelessly.  
  
Legolas could not look at their embrace and turned away, using all his efforts to understand what could have happened. The only good thing was that he had not found Sulrochil’s body lying somewhere. He did not know what he would do if he found her dead.  
  
There were two possible explanations why Legolas did not sense Sulrochil’s location: either she had gone away or she was dead. Now when Legolas had a moment to think about it, a frightening explanation to Sulrochil’s disappearance came to his mind. Could it be that she had left him? Why she had given him hope at night and then left? It did not make sense at all. She could have left him when they were leaving from Lothlorien, if she would have wanted it.  
  
Legolas was not even sure which option was worse, Sulrochil walking away from him or being dead. It did not matter, though, for either option was horrifying. Everything shattered again in his mind. He had seen enough death, he had experienced enough pain and he had only wanted to find love and now when he almost found it, she was gone.  
  
“Legolas,” Maegorodon said, “Now that Gliriel has come and can help us, we should search an even wider area.”  
  
“I cannot sense her location,” Legolas said swallowing, “I am able to sense her location within a half mile and she is not here now. She has not been here since the attack begun. She is not here.” His anguish grew every moment, as he listed all the facts he knew about the situation, “We found three of her arrows on the dead orc bodies and that means she was here when that attack begun and, no matter what, she never could leave in the middle of the fight.”   
  
Only then it occurred to Legolas what this must mean. Legolas took one step back, turned his eyes at the treetops and silently begged for help. “Please not this.”  
  
Aloud he said, “She could never leave in the middle of the fight and leave the rest of us fighting.”  
  
If she was anything, she was loyal. She could leave him, but never she could abandon her friends in the middle of an orc ambush. If Sulrochil had been here when the battle begun and shot three arrows, killing three orcs, it meant she must have died.  
  
If she was alive Legolas would have sensed her location earlier when searching for her. Even if she was wounded and could not be moving, Legolas would sense her location. They had searched so wide an area that if she had been there he would have sensed her.   
  
The only explanation, why Legolas could not sense her now, was that she was dead.  
  
Legolas collapsed onto the ground on his knees and stared at the darkness in front of him. His eyed fixed at a shadowy figure of a spruce in the distance; was that her spirit? The spruce swayed softly in the wind like it had something to say to the elf.  
  
Then the tree froze; it was as motionless as a dead rock. Sulrochil is dead, he thought and realized he had lifted his hands on his face. “Are you lying somewhere beside a stone as lifeless as the stone itself?” He lowered his head and realized his hands were wet. Tears were welling out of his eyes and he had no means to stop it. He had been walking at the gates of Mordor these last days with Sulrochil being distant and cold. His heart was sore and fragile after all she had put him through and now when there had been a flicker of hope, she had died. Legolas had to let his tears fall freely for he was too anguished to even try to stop them.  
  
An image of Sulrochil’s tiny body lying on the grass with a black arrow through her chest filled Legolas’ mind. He tried to shake it away, but the all-consuming vision would not leave him alone.   
  
He cried because he had not been there to save her. He should have been there for her.   
  
As he knelt in the mud in front of the towering trees, the vision flamed in his soul. He cried because he never got the chance to say he loved her. So many things unsaid, so many things undone, so many feelings never felt. For all the eternity they would be separated. For all the eternity he never would have a chance to embrace her, for all the eternity he would never get the chance to say he loved her.  
  
Never would there be a day when he could take her in his arms to kiss her, never would there be a day when her smile would lighten the world again. Never would there be a day when they could stand in the sanctuary of the forest under a holy tree saying the ceremonial words learnt ages ago - the words that would have bound them as one for all eternity.   
  
For all eternity they would be two pieces of what should have been one.  
  
The only thing Legolas could do for her anymore is to go and find her body. He cried even more when he thought of carrying Sulrochil’s dead body to the forest, to her sanctuary. She had to be buried in a forest, as she needed trees for her grave. She could not be left in an open area, she needed the safety of a forest.   
  
Legolas had pulled thousands of arrows from dead bodies in his lifetime, but now the thought of tugging one out of Sulrochil’s chest made his heart wrench like the arrow had gone through his very own heart. He turned to look at his hands and grimaced as if the cruel black arrow was in his hands.   
  
The arrow slipped from his hand as he did not remember how to hold it anymore. The vision charred his soul and when he closed his eyes again, he saw her lifeless body on the ground. He would have to take her to the sanctity of the forest. It was his duty now. Duty, honour, discipline. “This is my duty now and I will do this.” He crouched beside her and lifted her slowly.  
  
Her body seemed so light. It was like he was carrying a whisper of a wind in his arms.  
  
For her eternal sleep Sulrochil would need a spruce which would always hum silent songs for her because he could not do it. The spruce would swing her forever because he could not do it. The spruce would comfort her, because he never could do it.  
  
Legolas would find the tallest spruce for her, the tallest and the oldest. He would dig a grave for her under the tree and then give her a kiss. The first and the last he ever had a chance to do.  
  
He would set her carefully to the bottom of the grave and cover her with a mat of green leaves before singing a mourning song for her and the only thing that was left after that was to fill the grave with sand.  
  
By his bare hands he would scoop the sand over her body; each handful filling the grave and hollowing his soul. When the last grains of sand fell on her grave, Legolas bade farewell for her, and for the love that never had the chance to tie their souls. “Farewell, Sulrochil.” Crying helplessly, he welcomed the eternal aloneness, the unceasing loneliness, the agony that would last forever.  
  
Eiliandes watched Legolas cry, as there was nothing anyone could say to him which would give him even a tiniest solace, when his world shattered around him. She had no idea how long it took when Legolas finally got up, wiped his eyes on his sleeve. When he noticed the other elves looking at him, he said, “I will go to find Sulrochil’s body and bury her under a big spruce that will hum lullabies for her forever, because I cannot.”  
  
Eiliandes nodded, because no words in the whole world existed that she could say back to him. Tears fell on her cheeks too, as she silently sent her friend to the journey towards the world beyond this one. She looked at Legolas back, when he walked away, hanging his bow limply on his right hand.  
  
A few grains of sand fell down from his hand, as he stumbled forward into the dark forest.  
  



	14. Two Cranberries

Eternal night had fallen on him, leaving him staggering in the darkness of his soul. The swollen tree roots on the ground made him trip at every step. The twigs on the ground were elongated eerily and snapped under his feet, the awful noises resounding all over the forest; there was not in him anymore the ability to find a silent path. His palms were scratched by willow branches; he was forced to grab them to not tumble down. The shadows smothered his vision; all voices had lost their meaning.  
  
He was devoid of everything that made him who he was.  
  
When he was far enough away from the others, he crumpled on his knees. His mind was flooding with images of vultures flying in the sky, only waiting to get to consume Sulrochil’s lifeless body. There was no place in this world, nor in the afterlife, where he could be without pain. Love had been denied from him. Everlasting loneliness awaited him wherever he was; it would all be the same whether he lived or died.  
  
Love had been denied also from Sulrochil, and the realization made him bow before the inescapable. He had failed in protecting her, he had betrayed her trust and lost her. Never he had had a more important task than protecting her, and he had failed. He would always walk with his shame of not succeeding in keeping her safe.  
  
The mockery of facing his failure every moment eternally put him at a dead end. “Please, give me strength.” There was nothing left but unending derision.  
  
Forever he would have to carry his regret, the unworthiness taunting his soul.  
  
Just as he believed to have reached the bottom, he was punched in the nose with a false belief of sensing Sulrochil here. “She is dead”, he whispered, “please, take away the illusion of her being here.”  
  
But the sensation did not go away.  
  
All the time the blinking spot marking her location was coming closer, and Legolas stood up. It could not be. No, it is only his imagination. Only his foolish wish to have her back.  
  
It did seem real, though.  
  
Legolas walked slowly through the forest towards what he believed to be her, not knowing what to expect. “I can handle my failure; I can contend with the shame; I can face the eternal remorse, but I cannot live if I have all the time to deal with the false sensation of her presence. Please, take it away.” If she was not there, he could not get on with his life. But he had no choice, the eternity awaited for him and if she was not there, his life would be an endless loop of defeat, false hope and facing her loss all over again - leading him to insanity.  
  
The rain had stopped, but the forest was still wet. He waded in the puddles; wet branches swept against his clothes as he trod by. Finally, he stopped when he saw Sulrochil - the misty figure that looked like her. It could not be her, he thought, but when the sunlight reached her hair through the foliage, it shimmered in the familiar colour of the pine bark in an afternoon light.  
  
No one else’s hair had exactly the same colour and he stared at the sight eyes wide open. It took a moment for him to adjust from the darkness to the daylight. Across the clearing, Sulrochil ran towards him, worry clouding her eyes. There was not even a trace of coldness or bitterness in her eyes, only concern and fondness.  
  
It was the most breathtaking sight he had ever seen.  
  
Never had she looked so beautiful. Even though she was soaking wet and her dripping hair was falling limply against her head, she was mesmerizing, because all Legolas saw now was Sulrochil’s eyes. Their greenness shone with something that he never before had seen, something that was vulnerable and determined at the same time.  
  
“You have cried, Legolas,” Sulrochil said gently, when she stopped in front of him, tilting her head slightly to right, her eyes moving rapidly all over his face. She raised her hand near his wrist but did not dare to touch him and lowered it. “What has happened?”  
  
“What has happened to you?” Legolas asked, and tapped her shoulder briefly. The solidness of her being made him recoil as if he had touched fire. “Where is your horse?”  
  
“Did Thannor not tell you what happened? He saw it,” Sulrochil said.  
  
Listening to Sulrochil’s familiar voice began to clear the fog around him, but still he could not be sure why she was here. “Thannor is dead,” he said.  
  
“No, he cannot be,” Sulrochil whispered, looking at the deepness of the forest for a while until she rose her eyes back to Legolas and told him her story. “When the attack begun, I shot a few arrows. Then Baraniel got shot badly and jumped to the river. I went to the water with her, for I had no time to jump off. The stream was heavy and took us away soon. I floated with her until she died, because I could not leave her alone dying. She fought for some time until passing away. I could not save her, nor could I pull her to the shore. I had to let her float away and sit there until I could not see her anymore. Then I began running back to you, but can you tell me what happened to Thannor? You are troubled, so it must have been something horrid.”  
  
“I can tell you soon everything that has happened, but before I can do it, I would like to hug you,” Legolas’ voice was strained and he gazed deeply at Sulrochil, “but if I take you in my arms now, I can never let you go. I need you to tell me if you want it. I need you to tell me what there is between us and if you are not here to stay, please go away now.”  
  
“I think I have felt glimpses of what is between us in my mind for a some time,” Sulrochil took a small step closer to him, almost touching him but not quite, “but last night our love finally grabbed ahold of my soul. Legolas, this is love, what we have, and I would like if you would embrace me now in a way only meant for you. I am here to stay.”  
  
A faint smile crept on her lips, but everything seemed still be shattering to a million pieces. Although she had admitted her love, Legolas was in absolute agony and his face showing more and more anguish by the moment.  
  
“Sulrochil,” he whispered and put his hands tentatively on her upper arms, “I searched for you everywhere but could not find you and I did not sense your location. I looked under every tree and behind every rock, but could not find you. I thought you had died.”  
  
Legolas’ face grimaced when he pulled Sulrochil close, hugging her tightly. Sulrochil draped her arms around his waist and leaned into his embrace hiding her face carefully onto his chest, the realization dawning upon her finally. Legolas had not grieved Thannor, but Sulrochil herself.  
  
“I am alive,” she said, feeling crushed against his chest. “I am here. I came back to you like you asked of me yesterday.”  
  
She felt his tears fall onto her hair and all over her face, making warm streams. One tear dropped onto her lips, waking her to feel his agony and making her cry too.  
  
“You came back,” he said between his cries.  
  
“I came back, if you still want me back,” she said. “Please forgive me for -”  
  
“Not now,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Later. It is too much. Let me now only feel that you are here.”  
  
With trembling arms he held her even closer, if that was possible, and let his tears fall freely. Little by little, Sulrochil understood the enormousness of Legolas’ pain - he had mourned her death and now trying to dare to believe she was alive - and beginning to take the first cautious steps in trusting in their love.  
  
Sulrochil squeezed him as hard as she could, to make him feel she was real. Legolas sighed and the tension in his muscles began to slowly ease. He buried his face into her hair, inhaled her scent, moving his thumb back and forth on her back. She smelled of river water, wet cloth and spruce and he could not dream of a better scent.  
  
When his tears subsided, he still held her close and she did not move any further. “You came back,” Legolas said as if he could not believe it, withdrawing a little from the embrace to see Sulrochil’s face.  
  
“I came back,” she said, “to you.” Sulrochil looked at his eyes and was frightened to see how much he was hurt. She could only hope that it was not too much. Dark clouds shadowed his eyes when  they drifted over her face. She stood still and let him gaze at her as long as he needed, not saying a word.  
  
“You are alive,” Legolas stated, a small smile trying to appear on his lips  
  
“I am alive. I have been alive all the time. I am safe. We are together now. I will never leave you,” she listed, pressing her finger on his back at each sentence, trying to chase away the gray clouds in his eyes. Moment by moment, the clouds began to change colour; the darker shades faded, but it would take time - a long time - until the sky would be clear again.  
  
To look properly at his eyes, she had to bend her head back sharply. She prodded her jaw on his chest and smiled up at him. He squinted down at the impossibility of her posture. When she finally saw a smile also in his eyes and not only on his lips, she sighed and put her ear on his chest. His heartbeat sounded thunderous - an endearing contrast for his idle caresses on her shoulder blade, just beside her quiver. She was not sure if he was aware of his actions or not, but it did not matter - it was his right now to do it. Tears welled out of her eyes when it occurred to her that he had been forced to believe that this was denied from him.  
  
It was theirs now.  
  
Between tall lindens two elves stood, holding each other gently, feeling their love beginning to sprout. It felt so delicate, like it almost could be trampled into inexistence with the tiniest step.  
  
They stood a small while only smiling at each other, looking at each other’s eyes, and revelling in what they saw there. It felt like the smallest sunshine beginning to thaw frost on an early March morning.  
  
Saying anything more about it aloud now seemed terrifying.  
  
“We need to get back to the others,” Legolas said abruptly, releasing Sulrochil from his arms. “They are worried and we have to bury Thannor. We must also continue our journey before it is too dark for the horses.”  
  
“At night we will talk,” Sulrochil said, perfectly understanding his need to gather his strength alone.  
  
Legolas nodded and glared at the mountaintops far on west, mouth set in a hard line - too soon he had been forced to expose too much, and he was not ready to let her see anymore now.  
  
Sulrochil and Legolas walked back in silence, not looking at each other. It had been easy to hug, to comfort, to touch when there had been an urgent need for that, but now they should learn to live together when everything had changed ultimately. The change had been there, no matter how frail everything still felt.  
  
Legolas did not dare to even glance at Sulrochil anymore, only concentrated on the swinging sensation of her location in his mind. The closeness of the swaying spot in the innermost recesses of his mind began finally ensuring him that she was real. The spot joggled in the usual unpredictable way, gradually filling his mind with certainty that she was alive. His heart could not yet believe it fully, though; he had bid his farewells for her, and he would need time to accept that she was here.  
  
Their love was still so insubstantial it could almost be blown away by the smallest wind. But only almost, because now the love was in their souls and it could not be chased away.  
  
When Legolas and Sulrochil got closer, the others had already buried Thannor and were putting stones on his grave. Eiliandes walked slowly towards Sulrochil, looking at both of the approaching elves in turns. “Legolas found you,” she said, smiling weakly through her sorrow and tears began falling all over her face. “You cannot understand how delighted we are to see you now.”  
  
She bowed to Sulrochil and Legolas; as did the others. Gliriel said, “This day is of sorrow, but it has also became a day of jubilation. We mourn for our friend Thannor, but we are elated by getting you here with us. To see you both now here together, is a sublime joy for us, and also for our whole kingdom. Sulrochil, can you tell us what happened to you?”  
  
It was strange, and it took a few moments for Sulrochil to realize what they were doing and saying. She had no idea what was visible to them, but clearly they recognized Sulrochil as Legolas’ -. She did not know what word should come after that, neither was she sure how to react to their bowing. In the blink of an eye, she decided to ignore everything else and only answer Gliriel’s question. “Baraniel got shot and ran to the river; taking me with her. I floated far away with her along the river and it took me a long time to get back, too long I am afraid. I am sorry to have caused such an anguish for you.” She looked at the others, who nodded slightly.  
  
“We did not hear singing, so I believe a mourning song for Thannor is in order, before we can continue our journey,” Legolas said, and at once when he began acting again like his position required, he resumed his courage. He took Sulrochil by her hand and began leading all of them closer to Thannor’s grave.  
  
Legolas’ hand felt strong and warm. Sulrochil was almost in tears when the meaning of his gesture truly hit her - it was their first public appearance together. Walking hand in hand seemed odd though, the angle in which she had to hold her arm was not comfortable at all, and it took quite a while for her to adjust in order to walk steadily. She was not sure if she could ever get used to it.  
  
The mourning song was all too familiar to her, she had sung it countless times before, and this time she sung it for Thannor, but also for Baraniel. Tears fell on her cheeks, when all six of them were singing, but she did not know everything for what she was crying. She cried for the image of Legolas visibly in agony when he had told of believing Sulrochil dead. She also cried because now there seemed to be hope.  
  
Mostly she cried because she just had to. For the last sixty years she had not cried, but now her soul was an overpouring spring and the tears had only just begun to fall.  
  
All trees of the forest mourned the loss of one wood elf as well. The other elves had no other possibility than to fetch their horses and continue their journey towards home.  
  
“I will lead the group,” Legolas said, after mounting his horse, “Sulrochil, would you ride the last?”  
  
“I will,” Sulrochil said and tried to get to know the horse that had belonged to Thannor. The young bay stallion seemed restless after losing his master. “Easy, Trinir.”  
  
Sulrochil had to do everything she could to keep the horse under her control. It was a battle of wills, but she had handled enough horses in her lifetime to decide she could handle one immature stallion like all other mounts before him. She made the horse pace slowly forward, applied simple leg-yield to both directions and the horse seemed to calm down when he understood his new rider was not going to be merely a passenger, no matter how weightless she might seem on his back. Finally, Sulrochil stopped Trinir and put her hand on his neck, whispering something quietly.  
  
“Trinir is ready,” Sulrochil said, glancing at the five other elves who were watching her actions. “He just hates riding the last because he thinks he should be the leader.”  
  
“I see,” Legolas said, amused. “Do you think we should switch horses, then?”  
  
“Of course not!” Sulrochil said sharply, “it will do him good to be kept under control, like the rest of them. Now, Legolas, get moving! We do not have all day.”  
  
“If you say so,” Legolas replied, smiling at Sulrochil and urged his horse to gallop. It was only then, when Sulrochil saw how Eiliandes had a hard time keeping her face straight, that she realized how her words must have seemed to the others and it made her smile through her tears.  
  
Soon they were out of the wickedness created by the orcs and everybody’s spirits lightened, although no one could forget Thannor - nor Sulrochil’s disappearance. Even though there had been a moment of easy talk and smiles, Sulrochil knew it was only temporary before the night when the topics would get heavier and the tears could not be avoided. She decided to let her mind forget everything during the ride and only feel the wind on her face, smell the spring and let her eyes wander here and there. Mostly she stared at the river, or the forest, but could not help occasional glances at the direction of the first rider of their group. More than occasional, she admitted to herself. Legolas’ hair was waving in the wind and the muscles of his arms were doing slight movements when holding the reins. Never before had she seen anything that captivating.  
  
Everything felt easier now when her soul did not have to fight against anything anymore.  
  
Before nightfall, they reached the Old Ford, where Old Forest Road crossed the River Anduin. Legolas informed them that they must rest the night there, for there is no rest for anybody while they begin their travel along the Old Forest Road crossing the vast Mirkwood.  
  
“Are you all dry enough, or should we make a fire?” Legolas asked.  
  
“No one needs fire,” Eiliandes said, “and you know it yourself better than anyone. Everyone needs something else tonight and I am going to say what we will do. Glawaron and I will keep watch tonight, no objections. Gliriel and Maegorodon were Thannor’s good friends and they need peace to mourn for him. That leaves you Legolas and Sulrochil free to do whatever you want to do. You can do anything you wish as long as you do it together. And Sulrochil, if I hear you go away from him, be sure, I will come and bind you together with a rope. Did I make myself clear?”  
  
“You did. I will not flee, rest assured” Sulrochil said, with a bashful smile. “Have a peaceful watch.”  
  
With uncertainty Legolas and Sulrochil walked away from the others and climbed a spruce; everything seemed unspecified. All that had happened was floating in their minds and Sulrochil needed the shelter only a dense evergreen could offer to feel some kind of coherence in her fuzziness. Climbing was hard between the thick branches, as their quivers were poking on the branches all the time, but since she had decided they should to go there, into the green tangle of spruce branches they went.  
  
Sulrochil sat onto a branch close to the trunk and Legolas next to her so the sides of their arms were touching. Silently they sat there for some time, only looking at the sunset through the greenness of the tree, the last sunlight shimmering on the spruce needles, both of them trying to get used to the feeling of the irrevocable change of who they were.  
  
For thousands of years they had been alone. Now to let the love intertwine their souls, overcome all incoherence, go through their whole beings, seemed suddenly almost unachievable.  
  
All words said and all words unsaid from the last few days revolved in their minds. All deeds done and all deeds undone were storming in their souls making everything muddled. Finding harmony would not be easy.  
  
“I would like to have you closer,” Legolas said, draping his arm around her shoulders, unsure about her reaction. “May I do this?”  
  
Sulrochil nodded, but did not look at him and did not move an inch, only sat on the branch, clenching her hands on her knees. “Legolas, I would like to try to apologise now, if you would listen.” Her whole body was rigid and stiff. She turned her head closer to the tree trunk and inhaled the scent of the spruce.  
  
“I will listen,” he said and basked in the lovely sight of her nose rising slightly to breathe the spirit of her soul tree. He realized this must be as difficult for her as it is for him - trusting that everything that happens is real and he hoped the forest would finally free her soul to love.  
  
“I feel I have no right to ask your forgiveness, because I have hurt you so badly,” she said. “I have, of course, hurt you many times before by yelling unforgivable things at you, but this time it was different. This time I was not saying things in a flash of anger, but I chose deliberately to hurt you after the initial issue. I thought I had good reasons to do so, but nothing can justify what I have done to you. I intentionally hurt you and that is something I should not have done. I have hurt you perhaps too much. Can you ever forgive me for what I have done?”  
  
“Sulrochil, I forgive you everything, you do not have to fear that,” Legolas said feeling her rigidness easing somewhat.  
  
“But what I did was unacceptable,” she insisted. “You cannot forgive me that easily because I said for example - “  
  
“Please, do not repeat those things now,” he said quickly. “I remember your every word and your every deed. Never I can forget the expressions on your face nor the tone of your voice, but right now I am not able to think about the past - perhaps later - but I forgive you everything.”  
  
“Just like that?” she asked.  
  
“No, it is not ‘just like that’, I forgive you because I…” his voice faded, and he stared at the night sky for a while, weighing his words, “I have given this a lot of thought, I have no reason for not to forgive you and I do not want your advice if I am allowed to forgive you now or not. It is still difficult to believe that we can share all this together and I need time. We are here now and that is everything I need. Forgiveness is the key to healing, you know that yourself better than I, and I must also ask for your forgiveness. Can you forgive what I did to you?”  
  
“I do not understand why you are asking for forgiveness, because you have not done anything wrong.”  
  
“It was me who caused all this.”  
  
“No, it was not you, but me,” she insisted. “I misinterpreted everything. You did nothing wrong.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“No. You can be friends with anyone, you can care for them, you can wish for something more. The thing I got wrong, was that I believed you had something with her. I trusted my eyes, and not my heart.”  
  
“It was my fault.”  
  
“No, it was not, it was me who misunderstood it badly.”  
  
“You cannot take all the blame for this,” he said. “What I have done is the root of the whole incident. Can you forgive me causing this conflict for us?”  
  
“I forgive you everything,” she said and, just as she had uttered those words, certainty that she meant it filled her heart and began unraveling the impossible knots.  
  
“Thank you.” Legolas pulled Sulrochil gently closer, feeling her muscles relaxing.  
  
“Legolas, can you forgive me? I believed you had something with her. I should not have thought something so wrong about you.”  
  
“I already said I have forgiven you everything, it means also that.”  
  
“I should not have believed that and I feel bad.”  
  
“I know you do. Sulrochil, can you promise me one thing?”  
  
“Never get angry at you again?”  
  
“Not that. You cannot promise that, because I know you and sooner or later you will get mad at me again. I see a flash in your eyes and I raise my shields, but I can deal with that. What I need is for you to promise me that no matter what, you will come back to me before nightfall and we will solve the problem.”  
  
“What happens if we cannot find the solution?”  
  
“There is always a solution. Just come to talk to me even if you do not know what to say, and I can coax the right words out of you.”  
  
“You seem to be quite good at that.”  
  
“With you I have had to learn.”  
  
She leaned her face against his chest and said, “I promise that. I will come to you and we will solve whatever the problem is, before nightfall at the latest.”  
  
“What happened last night? Something made you to come to me,” Legolas asked leaning his head warily onto hers.  
  
“I am at the muddled battlefield of the Battle of the Five Armies every night, as you already know,” Sulrochil said draping her arm around Legolas’ waist, “but last night it was not Heledirchon who died. The image of his dying body had changed into a vision of you dying and I felt my life end too. I realized no matter how much I tried to go away from you, I could not do it. At that moment I felt I could not live without you, and I felt our love in my soul. I felt you in my soul, you took a firm grip on my soul and said to me “take my hand and I will never let you go’.”  
  
“I also said: ‘I will catch you if you fall.’”  
  
“What? Did you say it for real?”  
  
“I said these words to you every night since leaving Lothlorien; these and many other things too, and I am glad you heard me finally.”  
  
“I am sorry it took me so long.” Sulrochil began to cry and hid her face onto Legolas’ chest more tightly. “At night I got my courage up and came to see you. You made me see reason.”  
  
“Although you wanted to fight with me.”  
  
“Aye, I wanted you to get angry at me, but you were calm as ever.”  
  
“Calmer.”  
  
“So you saw through me all the time yesterday.”  
  
  
“Sulrochil, I see through you most of the time,” his voice was gentler than before and she held Sulrochil gently as she cried.  
  
“I thought I had lost you,” he whispered. “First I feared many days you were drifting out of my reach and today I believed you had died. The vision I had about your death seemed real and I… I buried you. I have no heart to tell you now anything more about it, but perhaps later I can. It all felt real but now you are here.”  
  
Sulrochil nodded against him. “I cannot even imagine what you must feel. The very thought of what you have endured makes my heart wrench in agony.” Her tears began to fall again. “But you have me now and you will always have me, if you - ”  
  
“Please, do not say ‘if’,” he pleaded, “for there is no ‘if’ anymore for us. There is only ‘how’. How will we do this?”  
  
“I am sorry. I feel so inadequate and unconfident and I fear I have failed everything before the beginning.”  
  
“It was not you who failed, for it was me. It was me who caused you - ”  
  
“It was not you!” she exclaimed.  
  
“You must not take all the blame for yourself, for both of us have made things we should not have done. Can we stop trying to find out whose fault everything was and try to focus on the present?”  
  
“You are not going to let me wallow in self-pity, you are altogether too reasonable for that.”  
  
“I have walked the road of self-pity ages ago and it is not worth it. Could you try to focus on the future?”  
  
“You are right about there is no ‘if’ for us anymore,” Sulrochil said. “I feel it in me too, but I am not sure how we are supposed to do this. Everything is wobbly.”  
  
“We are already doing this. I am not sure if there is any other way than to be together and to do what feels right. Does this feel right?”  
  
“It feels good and right to be with you, but how do we continue? What should we do next?”  
  
“I do not know. We just have to live in this fresh world, actually we must create the world for us. We need to grow our own forest, for you and me. We cannot predict the future, we just have to live in the present. For now it feels good to sit here with you in the tangled jungle of the spruce branches, feeling the needles stinging my face -”  
  
“I am sorry I dragged you here,” Sulrochil said smiling.  
  
“I got you smiling, so it is worth it,” Legolas said, touching her hair.  
  
  
“You seem to like touching me.” Sulrochil turned to look at him, her eyes full of wonderment.  
  
“Is it alright?”  
  
“It is mind-boggling but pleasant. When you began touching me more after we left Minas Tirith, I was bewildered. It felt good but I did not understand why you did it.”  
  
“I am sorry if I made you feel confused.”  
  
“Do not worry about it anymore. I probably would still be doubting if you did not do it.”  
  
“Well, I thought a bit of wooing would not hurt.”  
  
“Elves do not woo,” Sulrochil stated matter-of-factly.  
  
“That is not entirely correct. Elves cannot do it before they love each other, only afterwards, but that is not a problem for most elves who figure this out together at the same time. You are, of course, something else,” Legolas was smiling fondly and touched the side of her hand with his. Sulrochil let their fingers intertwine, but not after long, she felt her fingers crushing as Legolas’ hand was much larger. When she curled her hand into a loose fist, it fitted perfectly into his hand, giving the feeling of things being right.  
  
“I am sorry it took me longer,” she said, looking at their adjoined hands. “I cannot even imagine what you had to endure when I was refusing to have anything to do with you.”  
  
“I will tell you about it later. Right now it would be too much,” Legolas said turning his face away. “Could we talk about something else?”  
  
“I need to ask you something, but I am not sure if this is a right moment.”  
  
“Just ask, and I will be honest, if I cannot answer you now.”  
  
“Alright. You need to tell me about Tauriel.” It felt odd to say her name aloud, but she had decided that name was something she should be able to say without difficulties.  
  
“I can talk about her, for you need to know and this topic is indifferent for me nowadays. What do you want to know?”  
  
  
“Everything. When did you meet her? How was she like when you knew her? What exactly happened to her with the dwarf? I need to know. Like you said, someone will talk with me about this, no matter what their intentions are, and I need to know.”  
  
“Alright,” Legolas said and began to talk about Tauriel. First, answering some of Sulrochil’s questions, but then also telling stories about some of their missions together. Sulrochil asked a lot more questions, and while it was not easy for her, she decided she would not get provoked by this.  
  
“It is always so strange when an elf falls in love with a mortal,” Legolas said after he had told her the story of Tauriel and Kili.  
  
“It is strange and sad,” Sulrochil said. “They are eternally separated after the death of the mortal one, but the strangest part is that they can fall in love so fast.”  
  
“With mortals everything must happen quickly, but I think the weirdest part is that they do not have to wait for love until they can do things we think is meant only to those after marriage.”  
  
“And that leads to the absolutely strangest thing: they can get married even if they do not love each other,” Sulrochil said. “Mortals are weird.”  
  
“They are, but enough about them,”  Legolas said. “Can I also ask a question?”  
  
“Of course,” Sulrochil replied.  
  
“This perhaps seems odd to you, but I must ask this now.”  
  
“Now you got me curious, so please ask.”  
  
“Did you ever wish for anything more with Helediron?”  
  
“No. I considered him as my brother.”  
  
“I mean when you met him for the first time.”  
  
“Like I have said to you, I have never wished for anything with anyone. Not even with you. Besides Helediron was married.”  
  
“Was he married? You have never said that to me.”  
  
“It never came up. He had been married for centuries when we met at the first day in the army training. Perhaps that was the reason I befriended him so fast. I could be sure there would not be any kind of possibility for love with him.”  
  
“So, how did you befriend me so fast when we met?”  
  
“It was so easy with you. When we began to talk, it was like we already knew each other.”  
  
“I know what you mean. I actually never wished for anything more with you either because I was always content with what I had with you. Until I had to be separated from you for five months.” Legolas turned to look at Sulrochil whispering to her. “I am overjoyed to have you here now. To have you here close to me fills me with elation I have never experienced.”  
  
Sulrochil listened him whispering these words so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath on her skin, shivers going down her spine. For a long time they sat there on the branch of the spruce leaning onto each other, watching the darkening sky and stars beginning to show up one by one. Each star made them both shine the starlight more and more, and giving them more assurance of their love. Stiffness began crumbling, making way for deeper connection.  
  
“When is the last time you ate anything?” Legolas asked quietly, breaking the long silence.  
  
“I guess in Lothlorien I ate something,” Sulrochil replied.  
  
“I have wet, mushed lembas, probably ruined badly in the rain, and two cranberries which used to be dried, but now are wet as well.”  
  
“You still have cranberries?”  
  
“I have been eating one berry a day thinking about you and decided when I run out of them I come and confront you. I have been carrying your handkerchief as well; it was the only thing I had left of you. I do not need it anymore, do you want it back?” he asked offering the cloth for her; the look in his eyes was declared, so disclosed that it caused Sulrochil feel her shame once again.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, looking at the piece of red-stained cloth, “I am so sorry. I feel so miserable. I look back at what things I did and what kind of things I thought and said to you. I do not understand myself at all.”  
  
“Please do not worry about it now. It will take time to get things back at normal. This new normal, I mean.”  
  
  
“I am sorry I hurt you so horribly,” she was again on the verge of crying. She patted the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief before tucking it into her pocket.  
  
“I know,” he said, gently taking Sulrochil’s hand and dropping two small berries onto her palm.  
  
Sulrochil took one of them. Holding it between her thumb and forefinger, she lifted it to the air and looked at the crescent moon behind the berry. “I would like us to eat the cranberries, as a symbol of leaving this all to our past,” she said solemnly.  
  
Gazing each other deeply in the eyes, they ate the red berries. Both saw in the other’s eyes certainty that had not been there earlier. It looked very soft and very powerful at the same time. Sulrochil tilted her head to the left and smiled for him. He could not help the smile tugging at his lips as well. Silvery threads began to fly in the sky mending the wounds of the elves’ souls, with tiny stitches beginning to entwine the breach between the souls.  
  
“How about eating the lembas now?” Legolas asked, taking a wet pouch out of his pocket. He opened it and they saw grayish mushed stuff in it.  
  
“If that was the only thing left in this world for me to eat, I still would not eat it,” Sulrochil said smiling. “But I have dried apples, at least they used to be dried someday, now they are wet as well.” She dug yellowish, sticky substance out of her pocket.  
  
“Not applicable as food, I guess,” Legolas said, stretching one slimy slice with his fingers.  
  
“Now you see why I eat so little,” Sulrochil smiled and prodded his arm with her forefinger. “For me, most of the food seems like that.”  
  
He sighed and said, “How about climbing down and finding a place to sleep?”  
  
“Are you going to sleep too?” she asked and began climbing down.  
  
“Perhaps,” he said climbing after her. “Can we sleep under this spruce, or do you want to find a better place for us?”  
  
“You cannot mean we would sleep together?” Sulrochil asked when they were standing hand by hand on the ground under the spruce. The angle of her arm felt still strange, when holding hands with him while standing this close, but she knew it was the only angle she ever wished for and eventually they would find a way to deal with it.  
  
“I would like that,” Legolas said averting his gaze, “if it would be acceptable to you. You are still wet and I can keep you warm. I would like to keep you close anyway - you sleep better that way.”  
  
“Would you want to hug me while we sleep?” Sulrochil asked and not mentioned at all the fact they both knew - in this temperature any kind of wetness was not a problem to an elf.  
  
“Would that be alright?” he asked, keeping his eyes fixed at his toes.  
  
A brief flash of sadness in the corner of his eyes surged into Sulrochil making her remember again what he had endured earlier today - and the very thought of Legolas suffering the vision of her dying, made her to comply with his request. He would not say it aloud, but tonight he needed the closeness more than her.  
  
“I would like it too,” Sulrochil said simply, removing her cloak and folding it as a pillow for them. They lay down on the ground, Legolas draped his arms around her and spread his cloak over both of them. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and she felt immediately much warmer even if she had not been cold in the first place.  
  
The moment was meaningful, for they had never been so close. It felt good, more than good, but also extremely awkward at the same time. Sulrochil did not know how to put her lower arm. For a moment she wiggled with it until decided to bend it against her chest and hide her face on his chest. Even though the sensations were contradictory, little by little the feeling of joy began winning and Sulrochil wanted to say it, but suddenly was at a loss for words. She said instead, “They bowed for us. Eiliandes bowed and everyone else too. I was confused and did not know what I should do.”  
  
“You did exactly what they were expecting you to do. Nothing, except answer the question.”  
  
“I cannot believe how they recognized me as your - ,” she said and paused. “I mean, what did they see?”  
  
“I guess they saw something in our eyes and, in addition to that, they saw my reaction when you were gone and I believed you were dead. I guess it is quite obvious I would not be crying for anything less than - ” He stopped in the middle of the sentence and was silent for a while.  
  
Suddenly he began talking again and his voice was thick with emotion. “I thought I had lost you forever,” he said pulling her closer. “If I had lost you, I would have never gotten over it. Every time I tried to look at you, you turned your eyes away. Your eyes were so cold. I sensed your location all the time and knew exactly where you were, but I could not come to you. I decided to make the come-here signal every morning after your watch ended, but you never came to me. I waited for you. I needed you and you never came.”  
  
“I am so sorry,” she said and began crying.  
  
“You made me feel like I am worth nothing. You and I have been a Marchwarden pair for decades and always trusted each other. We have done magnificent deeds together. I have  enjoyed your companionship all the time. You are my best friend,” he paused for a moment and when he continued his voice was full of bitterness, “and then you treated me like I was your worst enemy.”  
  
“I am sorry,” she said, “I am so sorry. There is nothing that can justify what I did to you and I cannot understand how you could forgive me everything.”  
  
“The worst thing you did was not anything particular you said, though, but treating me as I was nothing more to you but merely the prince of your kingdom. You lowered yourself and at the same time made me a monster. I will remember forever you saying to me ‘Am I your prisoner, my Lord?’ as if I ever could do that to you, or anyone for that matter. Did you really think I could mean it or did you only wish to hurt me?”  
  
“I - “Sulrochil began, but was interrupted.  
  
“You do not have to answer,” Legolas said. “I just need to say all this now. You hurt me in ways you cannot even imagine. You chopped my soul into pieces and trampled over it, and then shut me out. You set me aside like I was a -”  
  
“Please, forgive me,” Sulrochil wailed. “I know I said cruel things to you and - ”  
  
“I have already forgiven you,” Legolas said. “I only want to tell you everything I have been through. I was surprised when you came along to the journey from Lothlorien. I was certain you would not come and I would have to search you for the rest of my days, and trust me, I would have turned all of the Middle-earth upside down to find you.  
  
“Then on the first night of our journey I put you to the last nightwatch, so that you would not go away in the dead of night. You came and did not say even one word to me. You did not look at me, not even one short glance to inform me that you would begin your watch. You just stood there and I could not do anything. My hands were tied - tied by you - and you know how I hate being in a situation where I cannot do anything.  
  
“I knew if I had tried to talk to you, you would have gone away and I did not want that. But then I decided to wish you peaceful watch as is the tradition and you had the nerve to bow for me and say, ‘Thank you, my Lord.’  You cannot imagine what I felt. It was a stab into my heart. You tortured me and you did that deliberately. Do not do that ever again. Every night your watch was after me, because then you at least came so close to me I could see you even if did not wish to say anything after the first night.”  
  
There were no words anymore left she could say to him, she only cried. “What can I do?” she said between her sobs.  
  
“Just listen. I need to say these things now. Everything I said earlier was easy to handle, because as long as you were alive, there was hope. Last night you came to talk to me and I dared to truly hope you would come back to me, but then you disappeared during the battle. I was certain you were dead. It destroyed me and I cried for a long time, because I thought we would be separated forever. I collapsed to my knees to the mud and wept. I fell in a heap and could not do anything but cry - all because of you. I thought I had lost you and both of us must be alone for all the eternity. The very thought of you being alone forever… How your soul could have endured it?”  
  
Legolas stopped for a while and caressed Sulrochil’s hair and when he continued, his voice was quiet, “All I had left was a decision to find your body as long as it would take. I found you, pulled a black, bloody arrow out of your chest and carried you to the forest. I could not leave you to a place without trees. You need trees, you need forest.  
  
“I dug a grave for you under a big spruce. I wanted to bury you under your soul tree. The needles stung me, but I knew I could not leave you anywhere else. I threw sand on your body and you were so small in the bottom of the hole I had dug for you. I had to use the last of my strength to shovel the last grains of sand on your grave.  
  
“There, in your final bed you slept forever safely under the spruce. It hummed lullabies for you always, because I could not do it. It should have been my privilege. The spruce kept you safe, because I could not do it. You died, everything in my world died as well, and I faced the never-ending loneliness. I had to face the eternal life without you and the everlasting mockery that I had failed in keeping you safe.”  
  
Her tears fell freely and she felt immense powerlessness. She tightened her grip on him and cried, “I have no words to describe what I feel and what I would like to say.”  
  
“No words are needed. You are here now. You are safe now and I will keep you always here.” Legolas turned his head to see her face. “Sulrochil, I love you. I will always love you. So many times I have wanted to say to you that I love you, but never could. I almost cannot believe you are here now and that I can say it to you. I thought it had been forbidden for me, but now I can hold you here in my arms and say I love you.”  
  
“And I almost cannot believe my ears when you say it,” she said with a teary smile on her eyes, “but I believe my heart that says it is the truth. When you say you love me, you get my heart singing the most beautiful melody I have ever heard. The song is for you and me. I will sing it for you someday, but not now. This is all so fresh and miraculous and I would only end up crying for happiness if I tried to sing it for you now. Our love seems so alluring and incredible I have no words to describe it. Every word is so indescribable and lame. The love came so fast and I was not expecting it. I guess that is why it took me longer to feel it. I almost said, I am sorry it took me longer, but you would disapprove my continuous asking for forgiveness which you already gave me, so I fortunately could stop myself for saying it. And now I see you are smiling at me, I guess you are tired of listening to my endless stream of consciousness - ”  
  
“I will never get tired of listening to you. You can talk the whole night if you want and I will listen.”  
  
“I know, I am only teasing you, for there are some words which describe exactly what I feel. I have all day waited for the opportunity to say them to you and I know you need to hear them too. And I said need and not want, because - ”  
  
“You could just say it,” Legolas interrupted her, his eyes full of love.  
  
“I love you, Legolas,” Sulrochil said and was in tears again. She hid her face to his chest and let him comfort her by long strokes of his hand on her back.  
  
“I began to feel glimpses of our love in Minas Tirith but not properly until we were in Lothlorien,” Sulrochil said when her crying subsided. “I could not believe it at first, when I felt it only in my mind. Then in Lothlorien I began to feel something in my body and it confused me. I feared I was somehow flawed because I suddenly happened to watch you. It just happened and I could not understand myself and what was going on.”  
  
“Sulrochil, you have to know if you are able to watch someone, it must mean there is love which can never be anything other than mutual. Were you still not sure about our love?”  
  
“No. I was afraid there was something wrong in me because of that.”  
  
“I did not realize you were still doubting our love in the last night Lothlorien. I had seen a flash of love in your eyes and I thought you were certain. Now I understand your reaction,” Legolas paused and brushed her hair softly. “You were doubting and then abruptly you saw me with someone you thought I loved. You had heard all kinds of things about us, you saw love in both of our eyes - “  
  
“It was more than that,” she said. “You told her you wanted her back and that you had missed her all along. You recognized her as your equal right there in that spot. I believed you had had a major misunderstanding, but everything had been resolved. In my hazed mind it all seemed clear.”  
  
“What have I done to you?” he inhaled deeply and squeezed her more tightly. “I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me what I have done to you?”  
  
“I thought of leaving you but I could not do it,” Sulrochil said, crying again. “I thought of sailing to the undying lands, but they had no appeal to me. I tried to forget you, but then I saw the multitude of green leaves surrounding me everywhere, whispering to me in your voice and I believed I could never be content in a forest anymore. If I cannot enjoy the forest, there is nothing left for me in this world anymore.”  
  
“Is it possible for your heart to heal? Is there a way to mend what I have broken?” Legolas asked.  
  
“We will heal.” Sulrochil lifted her head to look at him.  
  
“How can you be sure about it?”  
  
“Because I have forgiven you. I will never forget it, though, but I have forgiven you everything.”  
  
“I do not deserve it.”  
  
“Perhaps not, but you have it,” Sulrochil said and contemplated her words. “No, I said it wrong. You deserve forgiveness, because I love you.”  
  
“I do not understand your reasoning.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Deserving forgiveness has nothing to do with love.”  
  
“It has everything to do with it,” she said.  
  
“I understand that you forgive me because you love me,” he said, “but to actually deserve forgiveness, is different.”  
  
“I see you now through my heart and not only my eyes. You are in my heart now.”  
  
“I still do not understand, but I accept it because I love you,” he smiled.  
  
The sky was clear and there was enough starlight for them to see each other and they basked in the moment of pure perfection, both enjoying seeing the love in the eyes of the other. For a long time they lay there, only smiling and gazing at each other; content to be finally together.  
  
When Sulrochil looked into his eyes, she saw a forest in them; an enchanting forest, inviting her to explore. She blinked and was surrounded by trees. There were spruces and lindens, but also maples, alders, birches. There were trees of every kind, trees in all sizes and shapes. The forest reached as far as she could see, and a wind began rustling the leaves as she walked by.  
  
Between the trees was growing hay, each stem carrying a chrysalis. The love of the elves made the metamorphosis go underway; soon the sky was swarming with colourful butterflies.  
  
“You make me feel safe,” Sulrochil said, amazed by the astonishing view of the flutter of butterflies colouring the sky. She could not wait to see what their shared journey would bring to them, but all the new adventures should wait, because tonight she was too tired; or perhaps not tired but anxious to get to know how it felt to fall asleep surrounded by his strength. “Can I sleep here?”  
  
“Do you think I would let you go anywhere else?” he asked, tugging her closer.  
  
“You would,” she said. “You would let me go if I asked for it, because you would never force me into anything.” She closed her eyes, snuggled closer to him and when her nose was comfortably against his chest, she said, “But I am not going anywhere. I want to be closer to you, not farther.”  
  
For so long he could not have been sure if this moment ever would come, he thought. She was here in his arms and it baffled him as he clutched her closer. From now on, she would be here with him, safe with him. From now on, they were united, entitled to seek equilibrium together. Actually to ever find it was not ensured, but it was not the mellow life he craved.  
  
“You are thinking too much,” Sulrochil said, pushing him gently by her forehead. “You must sleep too. You have suffered so much today and the sleep will ease your pain.”  
  
“You ease my suffering, when you let me hold you like this,” he said, caressing her back, “when you say you want to be with me and let me keep you safe.”  
  
Sulrochil took a deep breath of forest air and let herself sink into dreams, enjoying the movements of his hands on her back. Legolas began to ask something but he could not say anything - she was fast asleep. The softness of her limp body snugly in his arms amazed him. She had been lulled to sleep by him and he embraced her a shade tighter, not yet fully believing how much she seemed to like his touch.  
  
Sulrochil had hid her face against his chest, so the only thing he saw of her was the left side of her head. Legolas marveled at the numerous fine braids going here and there around her lovely ear. He lifted his hand to caress her temple, halting the movement - the first time he would actually touch her face must happen when he can see the reaction in her eyes.  
  
Listening to her almost inaudible breathing, he contemplated the long road which had taken them here and was enthralled by the future with her and finding out what their shared path would give them. There was no way to guess what the future would bring them, so he decided not to think further than the next morning, when she would wake up and he could ask what he had wanted to ask.  
  
Soon they both were asleep pressed safely against each other, the huge spruce sheltering their first night together.  
  
The highermost treetops - the spires of the sanctuary of the forest - tried to reach the sky. The tips of the lowermost branches brushed the ground, protecting the elves from all evil; alleviating their pain; blessing their agonized souls.  
  
Sacred tranquillity had reached the hearts of the two elves and the forest let out a deep sigh of relief.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part I: Spring Winds (chapters 1 - 14). Thank you for reading my story!
> 
> Preview of Part II: Serpentine Paths (chapters 15 - )
> 
> They woke up to a new day, to a new era. The beauty of love was finally theirs. Now, all they wished for was peaceful time to get acquainted with their new situation and each other. All they needed anymore was the luxury of dreamy, carefree, languid time to make their love flourish, but that is not what they got. 
> 
> What love is, they had to learn in brief stolen moments in the midst of battle cries and flying arrows.
> 
> Something wicked had been stirring in north, far beyond the Grey Mountains. Now it was threatening all of the northern kingdoms. Everyone’s attention had been in defeating Sauron in south and the northern front had been left unsupervised; next to nothing was known about the evil forces of Shadowland. Before the allied forces of elves, dwarves and men could attack, Mithrandir arranged a meeting and wanted to send out a scout to gather information about Shadowland - a scout who possessed incomparable hiding skills.
> 
> Legolas took two long strides towards Gandalf and the flame of his wrath caused all of the men to grip their swords. “You cannot possibly send her there! Not now! You must find some other way!” 
> 
> Gwennor and Hwinnor saw the reaction of the men and jumped beside their friend. They tried to calm him down, putting their hands on the outraged elf’s shoulders, only to be thrown viciously away.
> 
> “There is no other way, Legolas,” Gandalf replied.
> 
> Sulrochil had orders from Mithrandir, she got contradictory orders secretly from King Thranduil and she knew what Legolas’ stand was on the whole mission of hers. 
> 
> “In a flash Sulrochil saw what she had to do in order to get the needed advantage for the upcoming attack. When the realization of her forthcoming actions hit her truly, she felt in her bones that no one was going to like what she was about to do.”
> 
> Sulrochil disobeyed everyone and made her own choices.
> 
> Coming soon
> 
> P.S. They’ll prove to be quite adept at stealing those moments for themselves and making the most of each instant they happen to get. The descriptions of the battles will be kept in minimum and the focus of this story will always be on their shared moments, trying to comprehend love and reveling in the sublimity of it - and seeking harmony.


	15. A Couple of Clouds

Horrifying terror rushed over Sulrochil when she woke up and found out she was trapped like a fly in a cobweb. Something all too tight, too hot and too suffocating had ensnared her. It did not remind her of anything she had experienced before; her whole body felt entirely warped, as if it had been affected by a strange force - a force too intangible to understand, and she panicked. Stock-still she lay, not daring to move and thus inform her capturer she was awake. Cautiously she opened her eyelids slightly. Everything around her was dark and quickly she shut her eyes again, rushedly trying to gather all possible information about her whereabouts, trying to find a solution for her escape.  
  
Something did not seem right and she blinked. The fright vanished and ultimate joy flooded all over her  - it might be a tad excess of everything uncomfortable in here, but she would not change anything. This was where she was supposed to be. Everything from yesterday made her almost smile, but her lips were tightly against Legolas’ chest and she did could not move even them in order to not wake him. Blackbird’s cheerful flute echoed in the forest, calling her into a new morning; calling them into a new world.   
  
How he could enfold her in such an impossible way, even in his sleep, did not fit into her mind.  
  
Not much fit into it today. The only thing that spun in her head now was that this was the first day of forever. The entirety of eternity squeezed into this one moment. Never would she be alone again and it suddenly terrified her. The arms that enclosed her brought her both peace and chills. How could she ever manage his unrelenting presence? Sharing everything with him seemed unattainable. Never had she wanted it, but here she was: entangled with him with no means to flee.   
  
She wanted to flee to the deepest of forests, yet she did not. Her mind was full of contradiction. She loved him, but learning to divide her living space with him would not be easy.   
  
Abruptly, she was in tears as the memories of her nightmare flushed all over her again. The whole night her soul had been filled with images of her death and the death had not been the worst part, but the desolated look on Legolas’ eyes when he had found her lifeless. He had carried and buried her - his motions all the time slower and slower, until he had been pushed too far and there had not been any strength left in him anymore. When he had thrown the last handful of sand on her grave, he had collapsed on it and been left to lead his life without light.  
  
Tears fell on her face as she lay motionless. The black arrow he had pulled out of her chest had left a bleeding wound and she was not sure which of them had suffered a deeper injury. She just let her tears fall and did not try to stop them. When the sky began to lighten, she felt Legolas suddenly stir and wake up.  
  
“What is wrong?” he said with worry in his voice, when he saw the wet streams on her face.  
  
“Everything is fine,” Sulrochil sobbed.  
  
“You are crying. Everything is not fine.”  
  
“I had a dream,” she said, tears welling out of her eyes again, “in which you buried me. I cannot be sure if it is the same vision you had yesterday, or if it is my own imagination.”  
  
“Could you name some details of it? But, please, do not describe all of it.”  
  
“You found me on grassland with a black arrow… and... “ She swallowed and tried to gather her strength. “You carried me to the forest, dug a grave for me and put leaves of a linden onto me…” Sulrochil shook her head as if trying to shake off the image of Legolas dropping the leaves onto her grave. “Then you gave me a…” she burst into tears again and could not finish what she was about to say.  
  
“It is the same vision,” Legolas said, tightening his grip on Sulrochil, “I am sorry you had to see it.”  
  
“No!” she said in fervour. “I am sorry you had to see it, for when you saw it, you believed it was the truth. I also felt your suffering because of the belief we should be separated for all the eternity, I cannot fathom how you survived that. How can you ever overcome the pain you must have felt while enduring that? Did sleep ease your pain at all?”  
  
“You are here now and that is all I need,” Legolas lifted his hand to Sulrochil’s face tracing her eyebrow slowly with his thumb and sliding his palm down her cheek. He wiped her tears away with the back of his fingers, all the time looking at her shy smile through her tears. “I can handle any pain, if it is mine and not yours.”  
  
“Your pain is my pain,” she sniffled, “but it is over now. In the cold days of winter my heart was frozen and all my songs disappeared, but now the melodies well out of my soul. Someday I will sing our song for you, but I fear today is too soon - I would end up in tears, but it is because I love you, not because I am sad. Well, I am sad, because of what you had to endure yesterday, but, like I said, it is over now. The sky is clear again and I am grateful for that.”  
  
Legolas was silent for a small while looking up at the spruce under which they were lying and turned his eyes back to her. “Sulrochil, do you think… I was thinking yesterday… would you like…?” His eyes darted all over her face until they fixed mostly on her ear.  
  
Sulrochil touched his cheek with the back of her hand, looking at him reassuringly.  
  
“Sulrochil,” Legolas continued and slowly turned to look at her eyes, “would you like us to perform the ceremony and pronounce the words which would lead to initiating the Bond of Love?”   
  
Legolas sounded so nervous and his wording made Sulrochil smile inwardly, but she knew better not to even hint about it. She only said with equal seriousness, “I would like that, Legolas. I would very much like that, but we are in the middle of a journey. The ceremony is simple and short, but the bond needs many hours to form and afterwards we should be together in peace for at least a day - preferably longer - and not riding through a vast, wicked forest.”  
  
“We could stay here one day and continue our journey tomorrow. No one can know exactly when we are supposed to arrive in Mirkwood.”  
  
“But is it still a good idea?” Sulrochil wondered. “I have heard it will be painful to be separated even if we spend the first day here together.”  
  
“How can you be so sensible?” Legolas asked. “I thought you were supposed to be the one who rushed into the unknown without asking any questions.”  
  
“Someone has to be the sensible one,” she said. “It seems in this matter it is my turn. The separation after bonding is painful, because all you are supposed to do after it is be close one another and get attuned with the realization we are together eternally. I think we should wait until we are back home and can do it in peace.”  
  
“Alright, there is a problem here: we need to be close after the bonding, yet I do not want to delay it any further, and neither do you, even though you pretend being reluctant,” Legolas said and paused for a moment to think. “The solution is that we ride together!” Wide grin lit up his face and he blinked, waiting for her response.  
  
“I can see that would please you,” she humphed, “but it would be seen by a lot of people and I do not mean Eiliandes and the others, for they already know about us. I believe your father should learn about me before anyone else. We cannot ride together.”  
  
“People ride together all the time,” he stated.  
  
“Not if they have one loose horse in tow and besides we have two married couples in our company - why they do not ride together, if someone has to? And the last, but not least: that smile of yours would reveal to the whole world what you think about me.”  
  
“Perhaps you are right,” he had to admit, “but it will take a couple of days until we are in Mirkwood. We can switch back to different mounts as soon as we encounter the first people. If we are fortunate they shall be Hwinnor and Gwennor.”  
  
“Are you really sure you wish them to see us like that?” she laughed. “We would never hear the end of it. But you are right, that way it could be done and you can have it your way. I surrender, but I shall be the one who actually rides the horse.”  
  
“You shall not. My horse, my ride.”  
  
“We cannot let the bullheaded, ridiculous youngster, that used to belong to Thannor, go riderless!” Sulrochil insisted. “Besides any horse would accept me as its rider, not you, if we ride together.”  
  
“Of course they would,” Legolas sighed. “They recognize your obstinacy and no one dares to defy your will.”  
  
“Not even you.”  
  
“Especially not me,” Legolas said, and pushed Sulrochil out of his lap. “I surrender. You can have it your way, as long as we have the ceremony today.” They rose up and attached their weapons in silence, not looking at each other until they were ready to move.  
  
“You are more jittery than usually,” Legolas said, turning to look at the river nearby. “Does that mean you feel we should not do this today and the bonding is too soon?”   
  
“No,” Sulrochil said, lifting her eyes towards his. “I am only concerned about the circumstances, not the bonding. Do you think I would have not said this is too early, if I was feeling it?”  
  
“I do not know,” he said. “We both have been behaving in the strangest of ways lately and I really cannot tell.”  
  
“I might need time for many things, but not this,” Sulrochil said and took his hand. “And from what I know, the bond will make everything easier.”  
  
“Alright, let us find the others and inform they can do whatever they wish today and we will continue our journey tomorrow,” Legolas said smiling and began walking closer to the river, pulling Sulrochil with him.  
  
“Look!” Sulrochil exclaimed, when they were almost on the riverbank and pointed at the forest on the other side of the river. “Two birches, side by side! How lovely! Do you see them?”  
  
Legolas looked at the forest, which was a common mixed forest full of pines, spruces and birches. With his eyes he followed the line she was pointing at by her finger and figured out which two birches she meant, but there was nothing out of ordinary in those trees.  
  
“Their bark is whiter than snow in January,” she said, turning to look at him and his questioning look, “and the greenness of their tiny leaves is lighter than I ever have seen! The faint green shade brings the spring! Every year the spring comes into my heart when I see that exact phase of the foliage! And look at the river itself! The water is splashing around the two rocks over there.” She waved her free arm to the left. “When the sunlight touches the water droplets it makes the whole sky wash in all shades of blue and green. There has never been a more beautiful morning as it is today!”  
  
“You see colours like no one else,” Legolas said and looked at the mentioned ‘two rocks’ which was actually a pile of rocks in the river, quite close to the waterline. If he tried to see the pile like she did, he might have to admit there were two rocks slightly bigger than the others. But was that not the case in any pile of rocks? He had no time to contemplate it anymore before her chatter filled the air again.  
  
“The river bank is dotted with marsh-marigolds,” she went on. “I love them! Do you? They are more yellow than melted butter basking in sunlight in the middle of August. They are! And the mat of golden saxifrages too! Over there. Look! It is like a soft bed for frogs, as my mother always used to say. Do not look at me like that! I do know frogs do not sleep on them. Or do they? I cannot remember, but we can discuss that later, because today it is not only the colours that are different: I see everything in pairs. There are two snowfinches flying in the southern sky and it feels like the clouds are also floating in pairs.” Sulrochil looked at the sky and pointed at the two biggest clouds on east. “Those two are a couple. A cloud couple!”  
  
“You colour my world like never before,” Legolas said and smiled at the messy mass of clouds here and there on the sky, not seeing any pairs - not to mention couples - of them whatsoever. “For me they are usual clouds, but if you say they form couples, I believe you.”  
  
“I see them,” she said, tilting her head to left and furrowed her brow. “Is it wrong?”  
  
“Not wrong,” Legolas said. “It is how you see them. I do not see the world like you do, but I see you and through your eyes I can get a glimpse of the magic surrounding you. You breathe life into me, even though I do not understand everything.”  
  
“Would you believe if I told you the ground under my feet feels different today?” she asked  with mirth and bent her head back.   
  
“I would,” he said and marveled at the look. Her hair fell on her quiver and her cheerful giggles grew wings and chased a pair of eagles on the bright sky. With this elf he would share the eternity, he thought and it humbled him. Her unpredictability enthralled him; she was day and night, she was all four seasons. Her intoxicating laughter was ointment to his wounds. She smelled of miracle and with this creature he was entitled to live for the rest of his life.   
  
When she lifted her head back, their eyes met and the newly found love in them drew a small smile on both pair of lips. For a while they only looked at each other softly. Legolas lowered his head slightly closer to her and Sulrochil tilted her head up to see each other better.   
  
This was the first day of forever, and the forest hummed around the elves, celebrating their love. There was no past, no future, only this moment existed. This was the threshold into the land of possible.  
  
Finding out how to live in this new territory, would not be easy, for it was a land neither of them had travelled. It would not happen in a moment neither - it never did, for there was time, there was no need to rush. There was no need to rush and no way to rush. They needed to learn to be together, to live together and to love together, do everything together.   
  
All they could do is to let the forest heal them; let the forest wind breeze into their souls and welcome what is to come. It was easier said than done, but they were together in this. No matter what, they were together now and it could not be undone.  
  
The forest had cradled its children on their first night and woken them into a new day, new world, new existence. Nothing was same as before for the elves, nor for the forest. The forest rejoiced, when a new couple of elves had formed, waiting for their souls to be joined together eternally.   
  
Two eagles had time to soar huge circles in the sky while the elves feasted their eyes on each other, standing hand in hand on the riverbank in the middle of a vast forest.    
  
Finally, they turned to look at the river again.   
  
“I wish to have many mornings like this with you,” Legolas said, feeling her small figure right next to him. Suddenly he was unsure how to proceed. “I wish to have peaceful time with you so we can get attuned with everything. When we get back home, we could ask for a leave and forget our duties for a while.”  
  
“That sounds delightful,” she stated in a quiet voice, not knowing how to react to the sudden flush of heat in her heart and she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “There is joy growing between those two rocks. Do you see it?”  
  
“Joy?” he asked. “If joy is those tiny shoots of meadowsweets growing besides your ‘two rocks’, then I see it. Or should I say, there is a pair of meadowsweets growing over there?”  
  
Swiftly Legolas jumped on the biggest rock in the middle of the current, using a couple of smaller rocks as stepping stones. The rapids twirled all around him and Sulrochil watched as he crouched to pick a tiny green shoot of a meadowsweet and holding it with two fingers brought it to her. “Here, some joy for you.”   
  
She lifted the leafy stem and smelled the bottom of the leaves on which, for the briefest of moments, was possible to smell the scent of the flowers. Suddenly her mind was flooded with the hypnotizing vision of a sweltering summer day with the dizzying smell of meadowsweets, she had had in Lothlorien. Swimming in the refreshing lake on the hottest day of July - and she had not been there alone.   
  
“Thank you,” she finally was able to say, when she smelled the plant for the second time. Now the scent was almost gone; in May it never stayed long. In spring the scent was only a hint of what was to come. In the hot summer days the meadowsweets would transform the world into a blissful place of white pleasure, their deep scent lingering above shores, distracting everyone from everyday life.   
  
Faintly she looked at him, not saying a word. He smiled and in her eyes the smile seemed somehow different than before, even though she could not pinpoint what exactly the difference was. Limply, the tiny meadowsweet hung in her fingers and she turned her eyes to the ground. There was a sea of small meadowsweets under their feet and she had no idea why he had not picked one there but instead had fetched one from the middle of the river. Once again she smelled the plant and when she turned it around she could still find a trace of the scent and she was deeply lost in her reverie once more.  
  
“Do you have a preference under which tree we have our ceremony?” Legolas asked and made Sulrochil stir out of her daydreams.  
  
“It should be a - “ Sulrochil began, but stopped in the middle of her sentence. “Someone is approaching,” she whispered.  
  
They looked at the forest and soon saw Eiliandes coming towards them with a worried look.  
  
“Please, forgive me for interrupting you, but there are many riders coming from Mirkwood towards us through the Old Forest Road,” she said, “the others went a bit further on a hill to see who they are.”  
  
Both Legolas and Sulrochil lifted their heads, turned their ears to the right direction and listened carefully.  
  
“They are about seven miles away,” Legolas said.  
  
“And they are elves, so no need to worry,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“I will run to the others and ask if they found anything of interest,” Eiliandes said, and dashed away.  
  
“They could be travellers going to Rivendell,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“At this hour?” Legolas said. “I doubt it, but it will do no good to guess.”  
  
“Some Marchwardens we are,” Sulrochil said smiling lopsidedly. “A bunch of renegades could come and ride over us.”  
  
“You forgot,” Legolas said, giving a fleeting touch on her cheek, “that a few moments ago we were not Marchwardens, but only two elves very much in love planning their bonding ceremony.”  
  
“And depending on who the riders are,” Sulrochil said, staring at his hand which just had touched her, “after a few moments you could be again the Prince of Mirkwood giving orders to anyone who happens to move.”  
  
“Just remember, I cannot give orders to you anymore. Our laws made you my equal when our love formed. That is why I have been trying to tell you I cannot order you anymore.”   
  
For days he had been persistently aware of her figure close to him, but forced to ignore her presence. Now he was allowed to touch her, but to suddenly know what to do with that permission was difficult. Reading her mind was impossible. Knowing what she wanted without asking, was unfeasible. Overpowering her was all too easy, but he had to avoid it at all costs, for the very thought of making her retract from him wrenched his soul.  
  
Gently, Legolas placed his hand on Sulrochil’s shoulder and ever so slightly slid it behind her neck, looking deeply into her eyes. Sulrochil lifted her gaze at him, and when she finally figured out his message, she leaned towards his invitation for an embrace and draped her arms around him - all the time her eyes glowing more and more with love.  
  
“Does the law give me the right to order you?” Sulrochil smiled in a mischievous way, bending her head back to see him properly.  
  
“Not the law, but you took that right some time ago yourself,” Legolas said, smiling down to her and pulling her near. Her willingness to be close to him amazed him more than anything else - perhaps soon he would trust in his heart that always she would feel that way.  
  
“How about running to the others and seeing what is going on?” she said, tore herself away from his arms and sprinted after Eiliandes.  
  
For a brief moment Legolas could not do anything but watch the swing of her hair in the sunlight, until he followed her. After a short run they were on the hill with the others.   
  
“Any news?” Legolas asked, looking at the direction of approaching riders.  
  
“There are seven riders, clad in Mirkwood army uniforms. One captain, six subordinates. I do not know their names,” Maegorodon informed Legolas.  
  
“The captain is Dathon,” Legolas said, turning his eyes to the distance in his thoughts for a while, until turned his gaze back to the other elves and his eyes seemed colder and his posture stiffer. “I should not need to tell you, what you have seen during our journey, will stay within this group.”  
  
“My Lord Legolas,” Maegorodon said bowing to him, “there is no need to say that, because we understand it very well ourselves.”  
  
Soon the seven riders were so close that the captain jumped off his horse and walked towards Legolas. The six others stayed on horseback, they all were also male elves, fully armed and looking grimly at the five elves standing behind Legolas.  
  
“My Lord Legolas,” Dathon said, bowing. “We bring news for you from our King Thranduil, but we were informed there would be five members in the Embassy of Mirkwood coming from the coronation of the King of Gondor. Where is Thannor? And why there are two Lorien elves with you.”  
  
“Dathon,” Legolas said putting his hand on his heart bowing slightly. “Thannor got killed yesterday at an orc attack by the River Anduin.”  
  
Dathon and all his subordinates also regarded Thannor’s memory with bowings.  
  
“As for the additional elves in our group, that is my business, not yours,” Legolas said. “What is the King’s message for us?”  
  
“Even though the war is officially over,” Dathon began, “there are still numerous orc groups in many places. King Thranduil sent us to guard the Embassy and also escort you back to Mirkwood as soon as possible. You have two females in your group, who rely much on their hiding abilities, riding along the Old Forest Road is dangerous and you will need reinforcements.”  
  
“I decide if we need reinforcements, but you must tell exactly your orders from the King and not your speculations.”  
  
“Forgive me, my Lord,” Dathon said bowing. “The King ordered me to inform you that you there are still orc groups in many places and you will be needed in Mirkwood at once, but…”  
  
“Dathon,” Legolas was irritated. “The exact orders.”  
  
“To let you know you are needed in Mirkwood as soon as possible.”  
  
“Thank you, Dathon,” Legolas said, looking at the six other riders. “Your horses need rest, let them loose in the nearby meadow with our horses. Dathon, you come with me.”  
  
Legolas and Dathon walked away from the others, Sulrochil looked after them and tried to fathom what had just happened. How could that Captain have been so incompetent? Was he always like that, or did he not regard Legolas properly as his superior with his Marchwarden uniform and the fact he officially was not in the army anymore? He was new, as he had not been a Captain sixty years ago, when Sulrochil had been a part of King Thranduil’s army, but even new ones should know how to act. And the fact there actually had been a new promotion, was strange. There had been no promotions for as long as she recalled.  
  
“I saw how you looked at him,” one of the soldiers said to Sulrochil after he had taken the horses to the meadow.  
  
“Looked at who?” she asked, turning to look at the soldier. She had been, in fact, watching Legolas, but she could not be sure what the other had seen in her eyes.  
  
“You looked at Prince Legolas like you were wishing for something more.”  
  
“Wishing for more is not forbidden.” Sulrochil was relieved, for he had not recognized what had happened.  
  
“Aye. Not forbidden, but foolish.”  
  
“Aye,” she said.  
  
  
“Especially if he is not free to love.”  
  
Sulrochil turned slowly to look at the soldier and said, “I have not heard that Prince Legolas is married or betrothed.”  
  
“He is not married, naturally the whole of Mirkwood would know about that, but have you not heard about Tauriel?”  
  
“I have heard rumours she loved a dwarf named Kili.”  
  
“The dwarf was nothing. It was only the King’s orders. He ordered her to play with the dwarf to get information.”  
  
“I see,” Sulrochil seemed to be thinking about this. “Well, why is Prince Legolas not married then?” There was no way to pronounce Tauriel’s name aloud in that sentence.  
  
“Tauriel was killed before they had a chance to do it.”  
  
“That is a lie. We met her in Lothlorien a few days ago.”  
  
“You did? Why was she there?”  
  
“I do not know,” Sulrochil said, “but why are you telling me about this now?”  
  
“I already informed you, I saw how you looked at him.”  
  
“Aye, but why would you care if I would be having futile wishes?” Sulrochil pierced the soldier with her gaze.  
  
“I do not wish that kind of a fate upon you or anyone else. I have seen what that does to an elf.”  
  
Sulrochil looked at the soldier, trying to understand his message, when Eiliandes came running to her saying, “Sulrochil, why are you lingering here? Did you not hear Legolas needs the Mirkwood Embassy to give his orders?”  
  
“Please forgive me, Eiliandes,” Sulrochil replied, turning to look at the other female elf with shameful eyes, “I did not hear Prince Legolas say anything.” She hoped Eiliandes would understand there was a reason why she had used the title, and not mention anything.  
  
“Well, then, we should go at once so he needs not wait for us,” Eiliandes said, grabbing Sulrochil by her arm.  
  
Legolas and the others were standing a bit further from the soldiers under a huge oak, but Sulrochil knew they were very well within the hearing and seeing range of all people present.  
“My Lord Legolas,” Sulrochil said, bowing to Legolas. “Please, forgive me that you had to wait for me.”  
  
“What were you doing there?” he asked, eyeing her strictly, trying to figure out the reason for her act.  
  
“The soldier wanted only to ask me questions about the sad story of Thannor. It is always so sad and strange when an elf dies, even if we are not mortals,” Sulrochil said looking deeply at Legolas’ eyes, and hoping he would recognise the words from the night before.  
  
“It is strange and sad,” Legolas seemed to be thinking of her words and his face was unreadable. “What did you tell him then?”  
  
“I told him briefly what happened to Thannor and that his wife must be devastated.”  
  
Eiliandes watched bewildered when she saw Legolas clenching his fists, incensed, and turned to look at the sky. With a little glance to both she understood Legolas and Sulrochil were talking of something completely different than what the actual meaning of the words was. Even though she would have liked to get the message, she was happy for her friend because the ability to read between each other’s lines was one of the earth-shattering results of being in love - and this was only preliminary before the bonding.  
  
“You heard the King needs me back as soon as possible,” Legolas said to all five elves around him, “and Dathon promised to escort us through the Mirkwood along the Old Forest Road, but if we ride with them we need to stop every night for many hours because of the horses and anyway riding through the woods is slow.  
  
“I have decided we shall ride today as far as we can along the road with Dathon’s group, and when it is too dark for the horses, we will leave them to Dathon and continue running continuously day and night until we get to the other side of the woods. I know a bypass we can use without horses that will speed our journey significantly. Then I can claim us the first horses we will encounter closer to the city and ride to The Halls of Thranduil, but I will give each of you a choice to remain with Dathon, should you want it, for the journey will be arduous. No reason is needed, it is your choice.”  
  
Eiliandes listened to his words not believing what she truly heard. She had been certain Legolas and Sulrochil would have their bonding ceremony today, and Legolas would disregard the King’s orders.  
  
Yesterday she had been able to take charge and decide the watch turns on Legolas’ behalf, but today the situation was wholly different. She could not repeat her bold actions now - there were strangers listening, but even without them, she could not do anything except obey what he had said - he truly was the Prince now and knew his place. The change from Legolas to the Prince of Mirkwood was remarkable; his stone-cold eyes froze the surroundings; every inch of him radiated authority and power. Eiliandes was not quite sure how he did it, but one thing was certain: she would not wish to oppose this person.  
  
“We will follow you,” Eiliandes said after a brief glance at her husband.  
  
Gliriel looked at Sulrochil as if asking something and seeing a slight nod, she dared to say,  
“We will come too.”  
  
“I will also come,” Sulrochil said. “The whole Embassy must travel together all the way to the King.”  
  
“We will do exactly that,” Legolas said and looked Gliriel reassuringly, as she must have thought Legolas really meant there would be not even short breaks during the night for sleep, which Gliriel needed like Sulrochil.  
  
Although Dathon could not understand Legolas’ decision, he had no other choice than to accept it. The ride through the woods was uneventful and at night the six elves began their run along the road leaving the exhausted horses to Dathon who was displeased to have six extra horses in his care. Each took the necessary items with them, leaving most of their belongings on their horses. Sulrochil had everything she needed already in her pockets, she would not care if Dathon and his crew would feed her dress to the spiders. Legolas took only his crown, tucking it into some hidden pocket under his jerkin. The ceremonial robe was not unique and could be left with Dathon’s group.  
  
The only problem seemed to be what to do with Thannor’s items. No one was willing to look at his things attached on package on Trinir’s back.   
  
“We can leave them with the horse,” Gliriel said, “Thannor’s wife can have them back later. Now she must be only grieving when she has felt their bond end.”  
  
All six elves ran along the road, which was familiar to them due to the centuries spent travelling along it. Sulrochil had always travelled along it, only riding and now running along the road felt much more pleasant. The horses were always restless in the heinous woods and now without any horses, it felt better, if that could be said about a forest with so much wickedness around them.  
  
They ran in silence, for there was no certainty if the spiders would be in hearing range - and if they would be hungry tonight. Several hours were spent running, until Legolas stopped under a huge tree, jumped on a rock, and turned his head to listen carefully. Others stopped too and tried to hear what Legolas had heard.  
  
“I hear nothing,” Sulrochil whispered. “Did you hear something, Legolas?”  
  
“No. I am only trying to decide if this place is suitable for rest.”  
  
“This place is no better or worse than any of them.”  
  
“Sulrochil and Gliriel will rest,” Legolas said. “All others will keep watch, but before all that, I will have a moment with Sulrochil.” He grabbed Sulrochil’s hand and led her away from the others.  
  
“What exactly did that soldier say to you?” Legolas whispered to Sulrochil, draping his arms around her.  
  
“He saw me looking at you and said he wanted to warn me because you were not supposed to be free to love.”  
  
“What?” he said, outraged.  
  
“He claimed that the King had ordered Tauriel to act in love with the dwarf to get information and actually she was your -”  
  
“I can not believe this!” Sulrochil felt his hands curling into fists behind her back.  
  
“I asked why he told me that,” she said, “and he said he does wish for me the same fate he has seen someone to suffer. I saw no lie in his eyes. I cannot be sure but I think he really believed to be saying the truth to me.”  
  
“If he believed to be telling the truth, there must be someone other who made him believe that. I do not know the name of the soldier, even though I recall his face. He also has been promoted, like all of them. There is no possibility to know who is telling lies. The things in Mirkwood are worse than I have thought when Dathon has been promoted as a Captain and his group consists mostly of people who I did not recognize. And now this.” Legolas looked to the darkness of the forest.  
  
“Do you need to go back to the army?” Sulrochil asked.  
  
“I do not know,” Legolas sighed, unclenching his fists. “I need to discuss with father until I can really know what the whole situation is. I could not get anything of interest out of Dathon.”  
  
“Aye, he seemed strange even to me,” Sulrochil said, “and it is unusual that there has been any promotions in the first place.”  
  
“Indeed it is,” he said. “Father has not told me much about the situation in the Mirkwood armed forces in the past sixty years. I have not asked any questions either, but I have believed things are better than they are, since he has not talked about it.”  
  
“You shall hear about these matters when you meet him.”  
  
“Can you please forgive me for rushing to the journey even if we were supposed to have our ceremony today?” he said.  
  
“There is nothing to forgive,” Sulrochil replied. “Of course you had to obey his orders.”  
  
“In the old days I would not have obeyed anything,” he said, “but I owe him a lot. After the war he let me do anything I wished. I disappeared for almost thirty years and when I finally came back I wanted to join the Marchwardens and not return to his side. He let me do it - no questions asked.  
  
“For sixty years he has not asked anything of me until half a year ago when he ordered me to travel to Rivendell. I am indebted to him and that is why I could not object him today, but I promise soon after we have arrived back in Mirkwood we will take a leave and just be together. Only you and I. All I wish is to be close to you; to have peace so we can get assured of us.”  
  
“I wish for that too,” she said, “but until we hear about the matters in Mirkwood, we do not know anything. These are perilous times, and I truly hope everything is in order, but I cannot help fearing the worst. I have a feeling he would not rush you without a good reason.”  
  
“I left him alone after the war,” Legolas said, turning to stare at one of Sulrochil’s braids. “Mirkwood was in mayhem then, and I left. He must have needed me then to clear everything, and I left.”  
  
“You had your reasons.”  
  
“I abandoned him in the worst possible time. I failed him,” he said and paused.  
  
For a moment Sulrochil believed he was about to continue his sentence but he did not. He only stood motionless - his eyes were as dark as the forest around them.  
  
“I feel you are tense and apprehensive,” Sulrochil said and slid her hands down on Legolas’ back on both sides of his quiver, “and I can hear how your mind is going through every imaginable possibility, or even those unimaginable,”   
  
“There are many things I do not understand,” Legolas sighed, leaning his head onto hers.  
  
“You will not understand those matters before you get to the King and learn about everything.” She continuously caressed his back. “Please, look at me.”  
  
Legolas moved his head slowly so he could look at her.  
  
“You need rest,” Sulrochil said, looking back at him. “I feel there is so much silent pain in your soul. Please, look at my eyes for a while and get a moment of rest, feeling only our love.”  
  
There was enough moonlight through a gap in foliage in order for Legolas to see her and he looked deeply at Sulrochil’s eyes. When she felt he was finally looking properly, all she had to do was to let her soul be absorbed by their love and it all seeped through her eyes into him. Legolas felt her love like the softest pillow under his head, having the most pleasant dreams, at a place he recognized being their home even though it did not exist yet. He had no idea if the vision lasted one moment or the whole night, but it was still dark when he blinked and smiled at Sulrochil, feeling very rested.  
  
“How did you do that?” he said, putting his hand onto the back of her head, pulling her slightly closer to him.  
  
“I can do it for you every time you need it, until we get the bond,” she said, lifting her hand to touch his cheek. “It would not have been a good idea to get bonded right before travelling this road. You are supposed to be together and it would have been impossible no matter how we would have travelled. I want us to have our ceremony in peace, so in a way the King’s message was fortunate for us.”  
  
“After we have visited the King, we will go to the forest and say the words,” Legolas squeezed her tightly until felt the crown poking his stomach unpleasantly in his pocket between them. “Why is this here?” he said and adjusted the item better. “I should throw this crown to the spiders.”  
  
“You could give that piece of royal vanity to Maegorodon and say ‘you shall carry this, for it prevents me from hugging Sulrochil properly’.”  
  
“I might do just that.”  
  
“If you do that, please, make sure both me and Gliriel are there to see the expression on his face. And do not forget Eiliandes either!”  
  
“Sulrochil,” Legolas said, grinning widely. “How did you do this? How did you make me forget the… I already forgot what I was thinking before.”  
  
“I will make you forget unbearable things every night, as long as you need it.” Sulrochil smiled at Legolas in the peculiar way of hers when she was thinking of something she did not say aloud.   
  
There was something in her smile that made Legolas assume that how she would help him forget the unpleasantness, might change when the time went on.   
  
“Now I must go and rest,” she continued and patted his shoulder, “so we can continue our journey as soon as possible. Have a peaceful watch, Legolas.”  
  
Legolas watched Sulrochil walk away reflecting her words and knew his night watch was not going to be peaceful at all, although the restlessness was not caused by the wicked forest, nor creeping spiders, and not even the problematic situation of Mirkwood, but his own imagination. He watched Sulrochil lying down under the tree near Gliriel, who was already asleep. Maegorodon was standing nearby on a rock with a bow in his hand keeping watch.   
  
But those two other elves Legolas saw only by his peripheral sight, the only thing he actually watched was the graceful body of his loved one. Sulrochil lay on her stomach, not having removed other weaponry except her bow, which she put carefully on the ground on her right side. Legolas let his gaze wander slowly all over her body, until he shook his head and walked a few steps further, turning his back to the others and beginning his night watch.  
  
Concentrating on using his eyes and ears was hard, for the only sense his body seemed to be able to use tonight, was the newest of them all - sensing the dimensionality of her being. For a while he wrestled with caving in and lying down besides her. Pulling her soft body against his chest tempted him, but the wickedness of the forest did not let him do it. To avoid having to face her death once again; to keep her safe, required defying this pressing urge and keeping guard against all evil in the forest of ultimate sorrow.  
  



	16. Trying to Comprehend

No spiders to be seen, not even traces of them anywhere, when The Old Forest Road led six elves through the vast Mirkwood. After the short break in the dead of night, they had continued running all day and night, and Sulrochil was flummoxed how overwhelmingly pleasant she felt at the moment. Never in here, the most wicked part of Mirkwood, had she felt any good feelings and it was strange. Excessively weird.  
  
Perhaps that was the result of being in love, she told herself. On the other hand, that could not be the reason, because all elves - in love or not - had always felt its evilness. The explanation had to be something else.  
  
In love - what a peculiar expression when it was combined with her name. Never had she wanted it, but now that she had it, she did not understand why she had never wanted it. This was perfect. Perfect, except for the fact that she had no idea what to do with all her unanticipated feelings.  
  
This forest had been evil as long as she recalled - and a long time before that - but wondering what the reason for the lack of wickedness could be, was not the foremost thought in her mind as she ran behind everyone else. It made sense for her to be the last in line - so she could give a signal to Legolas through their Wardens’ Bond, should the need arise. That was the reason uttered aloud. In her heart she knew it was the wisest thing ever if she was as far from him as possible during the run.  
  
But the distance did not prevent her from seeing him.  
  
Sulrochil did not dare to look at Legolas anymore - at least not for long at a time. She had made the mistake once - a couple of hours ago - and had been absorbed in watching him and forgot to listen to the sounds of the forest. It was a blessing there had not been any spiders nearby during her absent-mindedness, but now she used all of her concentration on listening and watching the group’s surroundings while she ran.  
  
Almost all of her concentration. A slight portion was needed elsewhere.  
  
No bird sounds were to be heard, but that was not surprising, for they avoided the gloominess of the place. What was new was a large amount of bats. The chirping sounds they made while hunting insects echoed everywhere and the faint thumping sounds when they caught their prey were more numerous than ever before.  
  
Even if she did not look at Legolas very often, the sight had burned into her mind and it did not leave her alone. She tried hard to think about the reason for the increased amount of bats and insects, but every time she tried to puzzle over the matter, her mind was already a million miles away.  
  
No, not a million miles, but perhaps a hundred yards.  
  
During their journey, she had noticed also the trees were strange. Strange for Mirkwood that is, meaning they resembled healthy trees more and more as they neared the city. The oaks over there looked more like oaks than the woebegone ghostlike trunks they once had been. Almost-again-oaks they seemed to be. Not pure oaks yet, but better than ever before.  
  
Sauron had been defeated and thus every part of Middle-earth can begin to break free from the evilness. Could that be the explanation? She understood neither the reason for the trees’ well-being, nor what it was with Legolas’ arms that caught her attention every time she happened to look that way.  
  
In her mind Sulrochil felt the defeat of Sauron could not be the primary cause for the recovery of the forest, but could there be hope in the King’s heart now? Of course, there was hope, she reprimanded herself for not understanding the apparent truth immediately. Of course, there was hope for the King now. Soon the elves could let go of this world and also he could reunite with his late wife in the afterlife. The sorrow had eased in his heart, letting the forest break free from the desolation. Healing could begin.  
  
She did not wish to sail to the Undying Lands yet, though, and hoped there was a way to stay in this world for a moment longer. To explore Middle-earth with Legolas was what she wanted. No, that did not sound quite right... Sulrochil reconsidered her previous thought and decided to discard the words ‘Middle-earth’ and ‘with’. Now the idea sounded accurate, but right now she could not dwell on that. They should get to the Halls of Thranduil and meet the King.  
  
The unknown awaited her. How would she ever manage the publicity that inevitably would come?  
  
It was all the time Legolas’ arm, holding his bow, the exact spot on his upper arm right between the edge of his jerkin and his elbow, that grabbed her eyes.  
  
Past willows they ran - almost-again-willows. Why did he need to hold his bow in such an attractive manner? Past a cliff they ran - the cliff that had never been affected by the evilness. The cliff was made of dead rock, therefore it could not be affected. She was affected by a powerful force, indeed, but it was not the evilness of this forest that had begun to vanish to her surprise. Past a colony of lilies-of-the-valley they ran. Could you finally put that bow down!?  
  
Lilies-of-the-valley? Sulrochil stopped and turned to look back at the white flowers to decide if she truly had seen them or were it only her imagination. They were real - Our Lady’s tears, as was the ancient name for the beautiful flowers. Our late Lady, our Queen, his mother. Sulrochil’s heart wept for the little boy who had lost his mother too early. Did their Queen also weep now for the loss of her child?  
  
Sulrochil crouched by the flowerbed and thought that the Queen had mourned for her child - and her husband - for almost three millennia, and never before had her tears made flowers bloom. No, the sorrowful separation of the King and Queen had made this forest decay until now. Did their Queen weep now because their millennia worth of sorrow was about to end? Did she cry now, because there was hope - and waited for her husband to join her in the afterlife? Could her tears drop here and make these white beauties bloom?  
  
“Why did you stop?” Legolas said sharply in a muted voice to Sulrochil when he had been forced to get back to see the reason for her break. Everything in him sent out white-hot flashes of anger.  
  
“Look,” she said and pointed at the flowers, ignoring his irritation.  
  
“You stopped us for flowers?”  
  
“Lilies-of-the-valley,” she said, not daring to use the old name now.  
  
“I am not blind,” he said. “Are they threatening you, and you had to slow us down?”  
  
“What is wrong, Legolas?” she asked, now truly noticing his restlessness, and stood up.  
  
“You are,” he snapped.  
  
“It is a mystery,” Eiliandes interrupted the bickering, and tried to inform Sulrochil with her eyes to be silent. Legolas would boil over anything Sulrochil would say, but perhaps he would listen to someone else, “that there are flowers growing here now. Never before have I seen them here. This forest has changed a lot since I was here the last time, two years ago. The feeling of the forest is also quite different. All the time I have felt this place is much more palatable than ever before.” Even if she did not wish for disagreements between Legolas and Sulrochil, she was pleased to see the slight crack in his stolidness - perhaps sometimes soon he would let Sulrochil in.  
  
“The area is different,” Maegorodon said, knowing the real reason for Legolas’ unease, “and the change has been quick. We traveled through this part of the forest half a year ago and it was not like this then. Not only the general feeling is different: we should have encountered Mirkwood soldiers by now.”  
  
“There should be several Mirkwood units in this area,” Legolas said. “There always was. If any of you can give any insight into this, please, tell me now.”  
  
“The only reason I can think of is that they are needed elsewhere,” Maegorodon said, letting his gaze scan all of the forest.  
  
“Dathon would have informed us if there were battles in Mirkwood,” Legolas said. Even the pea-brained travesty of a Captain would have known if there was a war raging in their homeland.  
  
“Perhaps there is no need for them to be here anymore,” Eiliandes said, “now that there are no spiders here and this place is no threat for us anymore.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Legolas replied, and looked at the white flowers on the ground, “but this is only guessing. There were battles a month ago, and we know for a fact that there still are many orc groups around - ”  
  
He ended his sentence as if he would be continuing soon, but he only fell deeper into his thoughts, staring into the darkness around them.  
  
“Legolas,” Sulrochil said after a while, putting her hand on his shoulder. “We need to rest.”  
  
“Aye,” he said, still in his thoughts until he turned to look at Sulrochil and his eyes seemed to focus on her. “We might rest here, even though I would have wanted to travel a bit more. Eiliandes and Glawaron will take the first watch, and Maegorodon and I the second.”  
  
No one said anything anymore, everybody only moved to the places suitable for what they were going to do. Sulrochil led Legolas by his hand away from the others and found a good spot under a thick spruce. Almost-again-spruce it was, but it had the familiar resemblance for her.  
  
“You are overwrought,” Sulrochil said, lifting her hand to Legolas’ shoulder when they were standing close to the spruce.  
  
“This is confusing,” Legolas replied, turning suddenly to look at Sulrochil with irritation in his eyes.  
  
“You have been away for six months, and there has been a big war during the time you were gone.” Sulrochil tried to sound calm. “On top of that, for the last thirty years you have been mostly doing Marchwardening with me - and we have been stationed mostly in the northeastern forest, not here - so how much you really can know about what is going on?”  
  
“I should know,” he said, frustrated.  
  
“You are asking too much of yourself.”  
  
“I should have been there with my father.” His voice was even more incensed.  
  
“Did he ask you back?”  
  
“No.” Legolas crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at Sulrochil.  
  
“Then he is fine with you doing something else.” She moved closer to him lifting her hand on his arm trying to calm him.  
  
“You have no idea what he is thinking!” he spat angrily, tearing himself away from her touch, forcing Sulrochil reel backwards.  
  
“Of course not, but - ” Sulrochil said, trying to find her balance again.  
  
“I am sorry,” he said quietly, “I should not get angry and make you fear me.”  
  
“I am never afraid of you, so do not mollycoddle me,” she interrupted him stepping again closer to him.  
  
“You had to back off.”  
  
“You would never intentionally hurt me and if you cannot reveal your thoughts to me, to whom can you?”  
  
“Revealing my thoughts and getting angry are different.”  
  
“No, they are not,” she said. “This thing is something that sparks your fury and it means you can show that to me. In fact, not only can, but you must do it.”  
  
“We have a short moment together and I do not want to use it with fighting with you.”  
  
“We are not fighting, but this is your inner fight and I am privileged that you share it with me.” Sulrochil took his hand. “I would rather use our time arguing about this than let you go out there again agonizing over this alone. I see your pain, Legolas. I see how you suffer because you do not know everything and you cannot control the whole situation. This forest is strange, and we do not know the reason for it. There are so many questions, the missing army units could be here and there, anywhere, or nowhere. You will hear the reason for the lack of them when we get to the King.”  
  
“Could it be that there are not enough elves in the army anymore to occupy lands this far from Mirkwood?” Legolas asked seemingly calmer after a while.  
  
“Aye, it could be. No elven children in almost two millennia, an increasing amount of elves sailing to the Undying Lands and after all these wars during the centuries always taking too many good people, means there are no more huge elven armies left.” Sulrochil was silent for a while. “It was so horrible sixty years ago, after the war. It felt the whole Mirkwood was full of funerals and graves and weeping people. The whole place felt so empty afterwards when so many people had died.”  
  
“I left Mirkwood then.”  
  
“Do not blame yourself,” Sulrochil said, “and the Battle of Mirkwood a month ago again killed a lot of people. Too many.”  
  
“I was again away.”  
  
“You were helping the men win the war. The same war, a different battle.”  
  
“I need to get back,” Legolas said, lifting his head in realization.  
  
“You are getting back.”  
  
“I mean, I must go back to serving with my father.”  
  
“I already know that.”  
  
“It means I must quit at Marchwardens and that means you must quit too.”  
  
“How long there shall be a need for the Marchwardens of Mirkwood anyway? How long there shall exist an elven kingdom called Mirkwood anyway?”  
  
“I do not know,” he said. “All I know is I want to lay down and hold you in my arms now. Can we do that?”  
  
Sulrochil did not reply, but only began removing her weapons and when she was ready, she poked the crown in Legolas’ pocket. “Take that thing out of there as well.”  
  
Legolas took it out and put it hanging on one of the lower branches of the spruce. “When the royal goldsmith finds spruce resin on the crown, he will be furious.”  
  
“But I like the smell of it.”  
  
“That naturally explains everything.” Legolas smiled.  
  
“Are you feeling any better?” Sulrochil asked, when they had lied down.  
  
“Much better, now that I can have you here close to me,” Legolas said and nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent. At the same time, it calmed him down and made him more restless.  
  
“I meant about - ”  
  
“I know what you meant. Thank you for being so direct with me, I need it.”  
  
“You must be direct too, and express your thoughts. You also need that.”  
  
“I never anticipated that to love you meant to have you telling me things I need to hear.”  
  
“You have known me for decades and I always say what I want, so what did you expect?”  
  
“No, it is different. I have known from the beginning you always say exactly what you want, but now I realize you always say things I need to hear.”  
  
“For me, the unexpected part is how your role as the Prince of Mirkwood affects you. Is there anything I can do to help you?”  
  
“You already help me immensely,” Legolas hugged Sulrochil tighter. “You cannot fathom how much it means to me that you are with me now. When I am alone, everything is tangled and I lose perspective. With you everything seems clearer.”  
  
“Clearer?” she smiled. “How can anything be clear with me?”  
  
“Perhaps it is that you are so indiscernible,” he smiled back at her and touched her ear gently, “that in comparison everything seems clear.” He paused for a moment and continued, “I love you, Sulrochil. Everything in you, even your… especially your fuzziness. When you say the most unexpected things, I must be alert all the time - in a good way - and that makes me feel that I truly live.” He brushed the curve of her cheekbone. Like the arch of the most exquisite bow, it allured him. “I would like us to have our ceremony now. Could we forget everything and leave all of other people’s expectations?”  
  
“That sounds tempting,” she said, enjoying his fingers moving all over her face, trying to apprehend the essence of her shape, “but we would not be us anymore if we did that.”  
  
“I know, but I wanted to say it.” Would he feel like a moth for all eternity, attracted by her fire? Yet he could not resist the pulling power of her skin.  
  
“There will be time for us when the time is right,” Sulrochil said. “There is no point in dwelling on that. The monotonous running has been helpful in many ways for us, at least for me. I have had time to contemplate everything that has happened after we met again in Minas Tirith and also reminisce our three decades together. It seems everything that has happened has led us into today.”  
  
“What a profound insight: ‘everything that has happened has led us into today’,” Legolas smirked. “Must be your most ingenious line ever.”  
  
“Thank you for the compliment,” Sulrochil said. “You always say the nicest things to me. But I was going to say how our relationship has developed seems to be a perfect example of how elven love develops - if we do not take into account how we finally realized it. We have been friends for three decades and always enjoyed our companionship, but did not realize it had been changing into love for many years. Now afterwards it is easy to see what was going on, but it is hard to say when our love actually formed.”  
  
“Could it have been before I left Mirkwood half a year ago?”  
  
“It could have been, but why did you not realize it then? It is obvious I would not have realized it then because I was refusing to even consider the possibility of love, but what could have stopped you…?” she paused and pointed him with her forefinger. “The terrible quarrel during the last night! It could have been that.”  
  
“It was so awful to leave you after that,” Legolas said, “but do you think our love formed then? In a way, it makes sense, though - to fall in love during one of our ugliest fights ever.”  
  
“I cannot be sure, but I have a feeling you would have definitely realized it if it had been earlier,” she said. “I would have come back to you to apologize, but when I was ready for that the next day, you had already left riding towards Rivendell.”  
  
“It could have happened like that, but I do not care at all about how it happened.”  
  
“You are right, it does not matter. What does matter is that the running has eased my befuddlement and now I have much more certainty of us.”  
  
“I feel it too,” Legolas said, “and I am looking forward to finding out how this will affect our friendship. We both have been completely confounded by our love and behaving against our better judgment. I have to admit I have been missing your companionship.”  
  
“All lame jokes and me trying to tease you in any way I can?”  
  
“Of course not them,” he said. “I meant the calmness of your nature and the unceasing patience of yours.”  
  
“You know, I try to control myself, but quite rarely manage to do it.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“What which?”  
  
“Do you know I try to control myself or do you know I rarely manage to do it?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
“But especially the latter.”  
  
“You said that, not me.”  
  
“But you thought about it.”  
  
“How about you fall asleep now?” Legolas asked.  
  
“I did not notice the blatant change of the subject,” Sulrochil replied.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Before I sleep I must confess you something,” Sulrochil said. “In Minas Tirith when I told you about my meeting with your father before my assignment, I omitted something on purpose.”  
  
“I knew that at once, but I could not figure out what it was and I naturally could not ask about it then.”  
  
“Well, at least I can give you the answer to this puzzle of yours,” she said. “He asked me questions about my relationship to you.”  
  
“What did you answer?”  
  
“I said all we have is comradeship and nothing more, because that was what I felt at the time. So, I believe he thought it would be safe to send me to you, since there was not supposed to be anything between us. I can only hope he will accept me.”  
  
“He will accept you. My father values love above anything else, and when he sees our love, he knows you are the one. But he will test you,” Legolas said. “He probably knows through his surveillance that you rile up easily, and he will say things he believes will make you angry.”  
  
“And I should not get baited?”  
  
“That would be the best, naturally, but knowing you…” Legolas smiled.  
  
“Alright, I will try to not get too furious.”  
  
“What I really think is that when you will meet with him, it is he who should fear, not you.”  
  
“Am I that bad?”  
  
“You are, and if this is the time of the confessions, I have one too,” Legolas continued. “About the day of the coronation and why my behaviour was so atrocious.”  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“You have not guessed it?”  
  
“I might have guessed, but you must say it.”  
  
“You are not going to let me go easy on this.”  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
“Right,” Legolas said, “I had never seen you in any other clothes than what you are now wearing, or similar, before that day. Very practical, many layers of thick cloth covering everything. Then I turned and I saw you in that dress, and not only saw, I was - “ He stopped in the middle of the sentence.  
  
“I understand,” she whispered. “You are supposed to learn to watch the one you love gradually and you were bewildered when you saw me wearing that.”  
  
“I was stunned,” he said. “The whole situation was horrible. I could not look at you, I could not talk to you - all I felt was our love and for the whole day I waited for the moment when I could meet you again and we could admit the love to each other. But then the next morning… you know what happened then.”  
  
“I know,” she sighed. “Let us not get into that now. We have both been forgiven for everything. There is no need to be sorry anymore. Let us be grateful for what we have now. I know everything is not like they should be, and it is confusing, but I wish us to be grateful for us. I like being with you, even if it is not always easy.”  
  
“Sulrochil,” he whispered, touching her cheek. “You are everything I never even knew I needed, but you should sleep now.”  
  
“You must go to your night watch soon.”  
  
“Please, fall asleep in my arms, it makes me feel that you trust me.” Legolas brushed his lips on Sulrochil’s forehead so softly neither of them could tell if it was a kiss.  
  
“Of course, I trust you,” Sulrochil said, slowly in a silent voice almost asleep. “You are my shield against everything. I know I should sleep now, but if I sleep, I lose you. It felt like that yesterday. I wish we could have the bond and have shared dreams so I did not have to lose you for the whole night. Besides, I have one more question for you. Which would you rather be: a cherry or a peach?”  
  
“What kind of a question that is?” he said with mirth. “You know I prefer peaches.”  
  
“I did not ask which one you prefer to eat, but which you would rather be. And also why?”  
  
“Rather be?” he asked. “Why do you want to know that?”  
  
“Your choice reveals something interesting about you and I want to know if you choose the one I am guessing you will choose.”  
  
“Alright,” he smiled. “I would be a cherry. Did you guess right?”  
  
“No,” she pouted. “I believed you would rather be the peach, because it is bigger.”  
  
“That crossed my mind,” he said, “but I chose the cherry because they often come in pairs. I would be a cherry with you.” He watched his loved one smile between in his arms, her eyes shining with joy and he continued, “I have a question for you as well: which one would you rather be: a well-written lie or an ugly truth?”  
  
“That is a hard one,” she said.  
  
“Hard?” he wondered. “I thought you would refuse to be the truth, so you would choose the lie anytime.”  
  
“I choose the ugly truth, because the keyword here is ‘written’,” she said. “I am not written. I am a living elf, not written by anyone. Besides who would make up me? Everyone would write about you, though - a valiant hero who saves the world, but not about me, because…”  
  
For a while, he waited if she would continue, but found himself reveling in the feeling of Sulrochil’s tiny body sleeping against him. Had she fallen asleep in the middle of the sentence?  
  
She had an endearing way to hide her face against his chest and Legolas let his thoughts wander, trying to picture what it will be like to be bonded with Sulrochil. Everybody says that when you get the bond, it feels right for it is meant to be that way and that it is impossible to understand the meaning of bonding before you experience it, but to feel everything, what she feels, awed Legolas. How would they ever manage to settle their emotions into equilibrium?  
  
And the matter of shared sleep. He was never tired, so how could he ever sleep enough? He was content only lying awake holding Sulrochil in his arms, but to sleep more? He did not fathom how that could be done, even though having shared dreams with her sounded alluring.  
  
Not to mention, into what it led.  
  
In shared sleep their souls join together in the most intimate way, making way for… making way for everything that is to come. Everything seemed complicated, and every piece of advice he ever heard about these matters was along the lines of: “it will only happen” or “do not worry about it at all”.  
  
His mind was filled with questions. The sudden change of the forest was startling. He did not know everything about why the forest had decayed in the first place. It had something to do with the Necromancer, but his influence had not been the sole reason. The loss of his mother, and the sorrowful event when the King and Queen had been torn apart had accelerated the desolation. In his youth, Legolas had tried to pry the whole story from others. He could not have asked his father, but every time he asked anyone else, they refused to tell him anything.  
  
Perplexity clouded his mind.  
  
What should he think about the fact that father had asked Sulrochil questions about their relationship? It meant he had had a reason to ask those questions and that would mean he had noticed something before Legolas had left Mirkwood many months ago. But what? And this also meant father had seen something in Sulrochil too, because he had sent her to Minas Tirith. Legolas knew his father would chase every elf lady far away from Legolas, if he did not see the right kind of feeling in their eyes. That was something he had told Legolas over two millennia ago, when the son had reached adulthood.  
  
Would all this mean father had sent Sulrochil to Minas Tirith because he had seen the love in both of their eyes? Sulrochil’s idea about their love forming on the last day, could be true.  
  
“You are a member of the royal family. How could you be equal with anyone?” his father had said before Legolas left Mirkwood half a year ago. He had not said, “You cannot be equal with anyone.” By the law, the Prince of Mirkwood was equal with one person. One person only, who was right here in his arms. Had his father seen this beforehand? The most intriguing question was: why had his father done what he did? Why had he sent Sulrochil to Minas Tirith?  
  
Again only more questions for Legolas and he heard Sulrochil’s voice saying in his mind “you will not understand any of this before you get back to your father”. He smiled at the image of her glaring at him disapprovingly when he tried to take too much burden on his shoulders. How could she be at the same time both vulnerable and strong?  
  
How could she be at one instant so insistent, so firm, so forceful and at the very next moment lie pliantly in his arms seeking his protection?  
  
*  
  
It was still dark when Sulrochil woke up and heard several people talking in hushed voices nearby. Hwinnor and Gwennor were here!  
  
Silently she took Legolas’ crown from the spruce branch and tucked it into her pocket. After attaching her weapons, she walked towards the others. Hwinnor and Gwennor were both affable tall elves with dark brown long hair - looking much like brothers, even though they were not related. They had been Sulrochil’s and Legolas’ mentor pair decades ago - and from time to time they had had joint missions with them.  
  
“So there you are, Gwilwileth,” Gwennor said, when he noticed Sulrochil.    (Gwilwileth=butterfly)  
  
“We heard they could not separate you from Legolas, even though they tried hard,” Hwinnor said with a wide smile.  
  
“Well,” Sulrochil said, “Legolas managed out there running through Middle-earth on his own for six months, until the King ordered me to fetch him back. How are things in Mirkwood?”  
  
“You saw the forest,” Gwennor said and looked both Legolas and Sulrochil in turn. “Things seem to be getting interesting.”  
  
“There are mysterious things happening here,” Legolas said, “what can you tell us about it?”  
  
“We are trying to gather information about the recovery of the forest,” Hwinnor began, “but we have not found out anything that could assure us of anything yet, -”  
  
“But the first changes,” Gwennor continued the sentence, “we noticed a month ago. No one knows when it exactly began. The progress is unpredictable and the recovery is in various stages in different parts of the woods. The spiders avoid the revitalized parts and have fled into the areas still remaining bleak -“  
  
“And they are displeased,” Hwinnor interrupted.  
  
“One could say that,” Gwennor confirmed.  
  
“Alright,” Legolas said. “Please, let us know if you find out anything more of interest. Do you know if there are army units with horses anywhere nearby?”  
  
“There is one with horses perhaps 20 miles away along behind a hill,” Gwennor said.  
  
“Are you coming with us?” Legolas asked.  
  
“No, we will run directly to the Chief,” Hwinnor replied, casting a glance to Gwennor. “We have a report to make.”  
  
“Aye,” Gwennor said, mirroring the glance. “Must keep him informed.”  
  
“Bring him our best regards,” Legolas said and turned to look at the others. “Let us go.”  
  
Finally, they could reach their destination. If indeed they could get horses soon, they could ride to the King today.  
  
*  
  
“Did you notice it too?” Gwennor asked from Hwinnor when they were standing side by side looking at the six running elves down the hill between almost-again-trees.  
  
“Sulrochil did not even glance at Legolas.”  
  
“She seemed happy, though, so they had not had a quarrel.”  
  
“Could it be that they figured it out at last?”  
  
“It seems so.”  
  
Soon they saw Legolas get alarmed, slow down his speed and turn to look back at Sulrochil questioningly. She only patted her right side. That gesture made him smile for her and resume running.  
  
“That smile sealed it,” Gwennor stated. “He is a lost case.”  
  
“We will have a lot of work soon,” Hwinnor sighed.  
  
“Aye. A lot of foreigners stomping through our woods to the royal wedding.”  
  
*  
  
It did not take long for Legolas to claim four horses. Eiliandes and Glawaron bid their farewells to the others and decided to walk the rest of the trip, instead of riding with the Embassy in which they did not belong.  
  
The ride was smooth as there was a proper path now and the weather of the spring day was clear. Sulrochil’s anxiety grew at each mile as she did not know at all what to expect. Even though Legolas had said not to worry, she could not enter the place without restlessness.  
  
Riding through the city was both dreadful and joyous. Legolas slowed their speed to walk as there had gathered a lot of people watching the arrival of the Embassy of Mirkwood. Many people had not seen their Prince in a long time and they were surprised when they noticed him leading the group very contented - which, by the rumours, he had not been for ages.  
  
Sulrochil was riding the last, like always after the loss of Thannor, trying to seem like she belonged to this group. Suddenly it occurred to her that this might be her last time riding through the city where nobody would be interested in her. To be surrounded by countless people, demanding her to be something she was not, seemed like a horrendous nightmare.  
  
The Great Gates of the Halls of Thranduil seemed as frightening as they had been at her first visit to this place and Sulrochil jumped off her horse to the ground looking around the site curiously - something she had not dared to do at the first time. To her satisfaction, there was actually growing trees and she delighted seeing small -  perhaps nine or ten years old - spruces on one corner of the yard.  
  
The guards took their horses and Legolas told the others that the proper order for their entering the Hall of the King would be him on the lead, then Gliriel and Sulrochil side by side and Maegorodon the last. Sulrochil nodded, as did the two others, although Sulrochil knew they had been doing this kind of assignments for centuries and knew for sure the correct protocol.  
  
She was the odd one out, in more meanings than one.  
  
Another pair of guards opened the gates and they began walking and somehow it felt like she was entering the cave of a dragon. Feeling uncomfortable, she walked beside Gliriel, suddenly sharply aware of the figure of Legolas in front of her.  
  
“Please, leave your weapons here,” a stern guard said to the three elves behind Legolas.  
  
“Sulrochil is with me,” Legolas said, lifting his hand to mean she can enter the hall fully armed.  
  
Sulrochil only nodded and stepped out of the way of Gliriel and Maegorodon, who removed all their weaponry diligently, putting them carefully on the table. Sulrochil looked intensely at Gliriel’s movements while she was removing her quiver - the other female elf seemed like the only thing she dared to look at this moment.  
  
The tunnels towards the King’s Hall seemed much longer and darker than the last time. Five guards led the way and when they entered the hall, the King was sitting on his throne in his full ceremonial attire. A herald announced, “The Embassy of Mirkwood arriving from the coronation of the King of Gondor, led by Prince Legolas. Members:  
Sulrochil, daughter of Belegsul, the Messenger of King Thranduil,  
Gliriel, daughter of Gilornor, the Messenger of King Thranduil,  
Maegorodon, son of Amarthelon, the Messenger of King Thranduil.”  
  
“We bring our greetings from Minas Tirith. Gondor has a new King, the men have a new King and the future of mankind seems bright with him,” Legolas said cordially. “Thannor, the Messenger of King Thranduil, was killed in an orc attack by the river Anduin and we mourn for his loss.” He bowed with his hand on his heart, as did Maegorodon. The guards nodded and the King only lowered his eyes to the floor for a while.  
  
Not saying a word, the King eyed all four of them thoroughly, beginning from Legolas and continuing at the same order the herald has just announced them. Then moving backwards, not paying much attention to the others, but stopping to look at Sulrochil, first staring directly at her eyes and then scanning her quiver and bow - and doing it in slow motion as if to make sure Sulrochil noticed it, even though she would have felt the shortest possible glance at her weaponry.  
  
Sulrochil stood rigidly, looking past the King to the wall behind him. She tried to guess if the fact that Legolas had allowed her to carry her weapons in here, would mean the King would recognize the change in their relationship by it. Or was it something Legolas could do to anyone he considered trusted enough? Suddenly she recalled all she had discussed with the King the last time in this hall and it made her feel even more anxious.  
  
Legolas began telling the King briefly about the quest of destroying the One Ring and then about the journey of the Embassy from Minas Tirith to Lothlorien and Mirkwood. The story continued with the attack which led to the death of Thannor, then he told him about the coronation and at first all spoken seemed to be of importance but then the King began asking his son questions, which seemed absolutely inconsequential.  
  
It made Sulrochil more nervous. For how long they must stand here listening to descriptions about who attended from which Kingdom?  
  
After a while, she began feeling annoyed and turned her eyes full of irritation to the King trying to guess, why he was asking all these inane questions. Could it really only be the strange habit of the royal people to know if another Kingdom sent someone of higher or lower rank than themselves?  
  
The King turned his eyes from Legolas to Sulrochil and for the tiniest moment she saw amusement in the King’s eyes.  
  
It did not last long when King Thranduil resumed his aloof expression and said, “Now we have heard enough of the coronation, thank you Legolas. Long live the King of Gondor!” He waved his hand indifferently. “Long for the mortals, I mean.”  
  
Sounds were heard from the corridor and a loud voice of a guard shouted, “You cannot enter!”  
  
The doors slammed open and a short male elf with dark hair flowing behind him stormed in, his eyes flashing like a thunderstorm. “I will see the King now.”  
  
He stopped between Legolas and Sulrochil and bowed to the King.  
  
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” the King said slowly. “What could be the reason to rudely interrupt my meeting of utmost importance with the Embassy of Mirkwood bringing their greetings from the coronation of the King of Gondor?”  
  
“Lord Thranduil, my King,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said bowing, “I am here to inform you of the orc population strengthening their forces near the Lonely Mountain. There are more and more orcs coming towards the south - much more than anyone has anticipated. No one knows how many there are still in the north, behind the Grey Mountains.”  
  
“Why would their business interest me?”  
  
“My Lord, they are planning an attack on Lake-town tonight."  
  
“Exactly why,” the King said, “should that interest me?”  
  
“Their army is not strong enough to defend their city.”  
  
“They should learn,” the King said. “Why are they not begging the axe-slashing midgets to the rescue?”  
  
“They are not begging anyone, but it is us who need to help them, because the dwarves are not going to do it. We must help the men by destroying all of the orcs from the Middle-earth before the Time of the Men can begin,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said.  
  
“I agree, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” Legolas said. “Please, tell us more about the situation.”  
  
“Legolas,” the King began, “enough elven blood has been spilled.”  
  
“I have fought with the men for the last six months,” Legolas said to his father. “I have seen how fragile they are, and they need our help in banishing orcs and every evil creature before the Dominion of Men can begin. They cannot do it by themselves.”  
  
“The men are evil themselves,” the King replied.  
  
“The men indeed can create evilness, but they cannot survive if we do not destroy any other evilness from Middle-earth, except the evilness the Men create themselves.”  
  
“I will not give my soldiers - ” the King said, but was interrupted by Chief Marchwarden Filvendor.  
  
“I do not need soldiers.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I need permission to help the people of Lake-town, and I need more arrows. Many more arrows. I need huge piles of arrows. A lot of them, and a few horses to carry the multitude of arrows to Lake-town.”  
  
“What is your plan, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor?” the King asked.  
  
“It is not my plan, but the plan of the men,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said. “They are already evacuating the women and children to the forest behind the town. They plan to let the orcs to come to the town and use their knowledge of the city map and buildings to their advantage. But they are not going to succeed without the help of the elves.”  
  
“Why do you care, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor?”  
  
“I have an answer for you, father,” Legolas said turning to look at deeply at him. “I care about the men, because they are the only people to whom my generation is going to leave any kind of legacy. We have no others who could inherit our world. When this elven Kingdom shall go to its end, I want the future generation of the men to reminisce us with regard. I want to be proud of the elves and I will come with you to Lake-town, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor.”  
  
“I will come too,” Sulrochil said.  
  
“I will not let you fight in Lake-town,” Legolas said, turning to look at her for the first time they entered this hall, and his gaze did not leave anyone uncertain of their feelings towards each other.  
  
“You have no right - ,” Sulrochil began, and turned rapidly in Legolas’ direction, making her hair whipping in the air with a flash in her eyes. She almost snapped at him that she would not be dictated to like that, but after seeing an adamant look in his eyes she realized he would not give up on this.  
  
Slowly Legolas eyed her up and down and finally fixed his eyes on her bow and said, “The only way I let you there is that we fortify a building and find enough arrows so you can shoot inside it.”  
  
For a while, they eyed each other intensely in absolute silence. No one in the hall dared to make a sound, everybody was staring at them and it was clear that neither Legolas nor Sulrochil was willing to yield.  
  
Legolas’ expression showed that he can let Sulrochil boss around any way she likes, but when it comes down to her safety, everything must be done his way.  
  
Sulrochil had never before seen that kind of a look in his eyes and decided she could not pick a fight here with all these people watching, and said, “Then we should go find the arrows and not linger here.” Her demeanour showed the topic was not settled, but put only to a ceasefire until later.  
  
Chief Marchwarden Filvendor was standing between them and turned his eyes slowly to the both of them in turn, not fully believing what had just transpired. Never before, in the thirty years he had known those two, had Sulrochil not gotten what she wanted.  
  
“There is no need to search for arrows,” the King said, turning to look at Sulrochil, “for we have enough of them in the vault. We have horses, we have shields, bows, quivers, knives, and we have swords. We have every kind of weapon you can think of - and some weapons you even cannot think of. We have a surplus of everything, except of the elves to use them.”  
  
“The unit we formed to the Battle of Mirkwood, consisting mainly of former Marchwardens, is willing to fight, if you would allow us to fight under the Mirkwood flag, my Lord,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said, bowing to the King.  
  
“You have my permission,” the King said, “and you can have as many arrows and horses as you want, as well as other equipment.”  
  
“Maechenebon,” King Thranduil said to the Chief of Royal Guards, “show Chief Marchwarden Filvendor the vault and stables and let him take whatever he needs. Also, tell Amathon to join Chief Marchwarden Filvendor and assist with the fortifications in Lake-town. Dismissed.”  
  
Legolas grabbed Sulrochil by her hand and tried to convince her through his eyes that the dismissal was not meant for them. They only stood hand in hand, watching all the rest going away. All guards also left the hall behind the others and when the door slammed shut, the King began walking to the back of the room and Sulrochil saw there was an almost unnoticeable door.  
  
In the King went, and she knew they were about to follow him.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to hear your insights about this story. Thank you for all the comments I’ve received so far - they’ve been super helpful for me. If you don’t know what to say, you could tell me how does the concept of shared sleep sound, or what do you expect to happen in Lake-town? :) 
> 
> Someone asked me how to pronounce Sulrochil, and here’s one version I pieced together:  
> SOOL-roh-HILL  
> Does that sound right at all?? If someone knows better pronunciation for her name, please let me know. Thanks!
> 
> Even though the story is mostly written, I’m doing a lot of changes to it now. And I mean a lot! It feels like the house has been built, but it lacks all decorations. On this editing round, I’m embellishing the story and making it come alive.
> 
> Please leave a comment and help me writing this story better!


	17. Ground Elder Bites

This was not how it was supposed to happen.  
   
The whole day Legolas had envisioned briefly bringing their greetings to the King with the Embassy, then visiting his father as quickly as possible, before heading into the forest with Sulrochil. This should have been the day of their bonding, their betrothal, and it had been easy to picture her trying to drag him under a spruce.   
  
The only thing to argue about today should have been the prospect of myriads of needles in their hair. Instead, they were met with war looming above their homeland, and the debate they were having was about whether he would let her participate in the battles.  
   
Again battles. Again only war, he thought, while removing his weaponry and hanging it on a hook. Instead of finally receiving the tranquil union their souls were seeking, they were forced to count arrows and sharpen their knives. When will the war end?  
   
He hoped she could finally be done with killing, but that was not going to happen today. Legolas turned to look at Sulrochil, who was only standing still, her eyes unfocused. Legolas pointed at her quiver, indicating that she should begin removing it. If only this would be the last time she would need to touch her weapons. Through a fire they had gone, and he wanted to give her peace.   
  
If only she could leave her arms here and never meet death again.  
   
Sulrochil stared at the empty hook on the wall. The maze of long dark corridors formed a labyrinth in her mind. Behind the King, they had walked along endless tunnels. Deeper and deeper into the mountain they had walked; right into the centre of the world, and Sulrochil was not sure if she ever would find her way out of here. Flickering oil lamps had lit their walk and she would not have been able to follow the King if Legolas had not been holding her hand and almost pulling her through the mountain, until they finally reached a small hall.  
   
The King had disappeared through another door, leaving the two younger elves to sort out their weapons, as well as the tangles of their souls.  
   
Her life would never be the same again. She was not prepared for this, she would never be ready for this, and never would she fit in. After they would go through that door, she would not be the same. She should become something she never could be. Everyone would demand of her something she could not give. Everything in her screamed for escape, and her gaze darted from side to side like a deer searching for her enemy.  
   
Biting her lip, she put her weapons on the hook. When she had done it, Legolas hugged her and whispered so close that his lips almost touched her ear, “Welcome to my home, Sulrochil.”  
   
Sulrochil nodded - all the anxiety she had felt during the whole day had made her tense and his sudden closeness felt overwhelming. She felt his arms draped around her more by her inner sense for him than any other sense. “Can you hold me here for a moment, please, before we enter the place?” Sulrochil asked quietly, and leaned her head onto his chest.  
   
“I will hold you here as long as you need it,” Legolas whispered and let his lips brush her earlobe. He felt her shoulders stiffening and she inhaled a sharp breath. To calm her down, he pressed his chin on her temple and slowly caressed her back. “There is no need to fear.”  
   
Little by little, Sulrochil’s anxiety began to fade as she listened to his steady breathing. “I guess I am ready,” she said after a while when she again recalled where they were supposed to go. This moment was life-changing, but there was no escape except to go through that door and meet what was to come.  
    
“You guess?” Legolas asked. “We have no obligation to go in there, if you do not want to.” She smelled mostly of spruce and something indescribable reminding him of wind, like always, but this time also oddly of mint, until he realized it was not Sulrochil, but the smell of herbal tea coming from the other room.  
   
Sulrochil also sensed the minty scent and lifted her head. Perhaps there would be a way for her to manage this.  
   
A realization dawned upon her - she was not alone. She was here because of Legolas and because of him she would do this. She had not chosen this path, but here she was - and for his sake she would learn. For him she would do anything.  
  
“Of course I want it,” she said, “but please understand, this is not easy for me. I do not know what to expect, and there are so many reasons why I do not know. First - ”  
   
“Shh,” he interrupted her, putting his forefinger onto her lips. “If you begin thinking about all of the possible scenarios, we will be here in the hall for the whole night.”  
   
“I have no idea how to behave in front of a king!” she exclaimed.  
   
“You will not meet a king,” Legolas said.  
   
“What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head to the right. “I thought we would meet him. Why are we here then?”  
   
“When we go in,” he said, pointing at the door, “you will not meet the King, but my father. Do you think you could manage to meet my father?”  
   
Sulrochil did not reply and Legolas continued, “He wants to see you. How about we go in, I will introduce you and you could, for example… let me think... smile?” Legolas touched her arm reassuringly.  
   
Legolas opened the door and let Sulrochil go in first. At the same time, the room seemed more modest and more magnificent than she had anticipated. There was no grand furniture nor chandeliers, but simple wooden pieces - old, but in their functionality, making the room comfortable.  
   
It was not any of the furniture, though, that captured her interest, but the scenery out the window. She had believed this place would be wholly inside the mountain, but it was not. Sulrochil walked towards the wall, facing the door, which was entirely made of glass; and marvelled at the broad view.  
   
Through the window she saw mountains surrounding a forest. And what a forest - there were so many kinds of trees, making the scenery more alluring than anything else she had ever seen! How there could oaks and junipers grow together? And mallorns! How can they grow in Mirkwood? She had believed they would not survive this far north. Willows too! Swinging on the branches of willow thickets would be lovely, like she had done with her friends as a child! But what was that?! There was one tree she did not recognize, and she craved to find out what it was!  
   
Being the middle of May, the leaves of the trees were almost in their full size, but not quite. The colour of the foliage was the lightest green which could be seen only in the end of the spring. Soon it would be darker - more substantial - but right at this moment it was so light, innocent and fresh; like the love they shared with Legolas.  
   
The other two elves let her admire the sight until she seemed to remember where she was and looked at Legolas, and his eyes shone with love, his whole demeanour radiated love. Sulrochil smiled and finally dared to look at the King, no, not the King, but Legolas’ father. He had removed his crown and ceremonial robe and now when he was wearing a simple dark grey robe, he seemed much more approachable. He eyed Sulrochil with a polite smile.  
   
“Father,” Legolas said, “this is Sulrochil. Sulrochil, this is Thranduil, my father.”  
   
“My pleasure to meet you, Sulrochil,” Thranduil said, putting his hand on his heart and bowed for Sulrochil.  
   
“My pleasure to meet you, Thranduil,” Sulrochil said, also bowing, not knowing if she was behaving correctly. It felt so odd. Her spine felt crooked when trying to decide the right angle to bend it - you bow differently to the King and your peers. You bow differently to the father of your… she still was not sure what word she should use to describe Legolas and it frustrated her. Nevertheless, it was impossible to bow correctly if the person you meet is so many different things at the same time.  
   
“You have had a long journey,” Thranduil said. “Please, join me for dinner.” He did not wait for an answer, but walked towards the dining table which was covered with food. There were so many varieties of dishes that Sulrochil had never before seen at the same time - and she could not put even the tiniest amount of anything into her mouth now. Legolas smiled at Sulrochil and grabbed her by the hand, leading her to the table. At her place there was an empty plate and a minty smelling mug of tea. Sulrochil held her cup with both hands and stared into it, not being able to say anything, not daring to look at the others, and especially not taking anything on her plate.  
   
“Father,” Legolas began, “what can you say about the situation in Mirkwood? I am half a year away and I do not recognize the place anymore.”  
   
“The world is changing rapidly,” Thranduil replied. “Do you recognize even yourself amidst all this?”  
   
“There used to be a lot of soldiers in the woods, where are they now?” Legolas asked, ignoring his father’s question.  
   
“There are not enough units to occupy land that far away anymore.”  
   
“You have not told me about that,” Legolas said.  
   
“You have never asked,” Thranduil said. “The population is decreasing. More and more people sail to the Undying Lands, and if I am honest, the Kingdom of Mirkwood cannot hold on for long anymore. We have lost many soldiers over the decades and in the Battle of Mirkwood a month ago, again too many. When some soldiers of a group die, it is a rare occasion when the rest of the group wants to continue in the army.” He looked at Sulrochil, but she was only studying her mug and did not wish to join the conversation. “Even more difficult is to get proper group leaders and officers. Everyone is too loyal to their group and does not want a promotion.”  
   
“Still, I never would have believed Dathon would be a captain.”  
   
“He is good for certain missions.”  
   
“Aye, like to inform me there are orcs around,” Legolas said.  
   
“His soldiers are excellent. They could have strengthened your group during the journey along the Old Forest Road.”  
   
“It was better this way,” Legolas said. “Please tell us more about why the forest is behaving oddly, and what we know about the orcs attacking Lake-town tonight.”  
   
“The evil forces have been gathering beyond Grey Mountains unbeknownst by everyone and now they are coming towards the south,” Thranduil said. “They are building their base beside the Lonely Mountain. Currently, they present no threat to the dwarves, and therefore they are not doing anything about the situation. The dwarves have locked themselves into the mountain and the orcs are free to rampage - it is only a matter of time until they fabricate an excuse to attack Mirkwood. We do not know anything more about them, except that there are lots of them. We sent out a scout with Filvendor…, I beg your pardon, Chief Marchwarden Filvendor for you, of course, and we will get more information soon when Pelingilon comes back from his mission.”  
   
“Alright,” Legolas said and fell into his thoughts for a moment. “So, we do not know what to expect from them tonight.”  
   
“They are orcs,” Thranduil stated. “They will slash everything on their way. It will be bloodshed for Lake-town.”  
   
“If that is your opinion,” Legolas said. “Why did you order your Shieldmaster for the fortification, then? You could have said Sulrochil is not allowed to go there at all.”  
   
“Who am I to give her orders on this matter?” Thranduil said, waving his hand. “I got the impression this young lady is going to dash into Lake-town tonight, and all I can do is give my best people for the fortification so you two can use your time for fighting against the orcs and not each other.” Thranduil looked at Sulrochil as if he wanted something to say to her, but since she still did not dare to do anything more than stare at her cup, he let the subject drop.  
   
“You seem to be well informed about these matters,” Legolas smiled. “Of course, I did not expect anything less, but you have not told us anything about the recovery of the forest yet.”  
   
“There is not much time before you must leave to Lake-town,” Thranduil said, pouring a goblet of red wine for himself, “and I need to know everything about your quest. Please, eat something and tell me about how the Ring got destroyed.”  
   
Legolas took some food and began telling his father the story of all the things that had taken place during the journey of the Fellowship of the Ring. Sulrochil had heard most of the facts on her first night in Minas Tirith, but the story told with Gimli had sounded altogether different as this version spoken to his father, making Sulrochil understand better how complicated the whole journey had been and how close to a failure they had been many times. Thranduil asked many questions, his voice was not as sharp as it was in public, and somehow, listening to their interaction made Sulrochil calmer and she dared to look more closely at the offerings of the table. Seeing small biscuits that resembled the ground elder bites her mother used to make, filled her with curiosity. Legolas went on with his story while she contemplated whether she could take one.  
  
“Do you know anything about the whereabouts of Tauriel?” Legolas asked suddenly.  
  
“Why do you ask?” Thranduil asked, turning his eyes to Sulrochil, not veiling his worry.  
  
“We met her in Lothlorien.”  
  
“In Lothlorien?” Thranduil said. “No, I did not know she was there, and not even if she was in this world anymore. All I know is that sixty years ago she left Mirkwood. Many of my trusted people informed me that she began travelling to the south, but after that I have gotten no information.”  
  
“She was there.” Legolas also looked at Sulrochil, and continued, “One soldier in Dathon’s group told Sulrochil offensive rumours.”  
  
“Not only offensive, but false,” Sulrochil finally joined the conversation and briefly told them about the discussion that had taken place during their journey.  
  
“This is outrageous,” Thranduil was furious, “And you say that soldier believed he was telling you the truth?”  
  
“I truly had the feeling he believed what he said.”  
  
“I cannot believe this,” Thranduil said. “Before now, I have not heard anything like this.”  
  
“But Father, would your trusted people even dare to mention this to you?” Legolas asked.  
  
“I do not know,” Thranduil replied quietly, leaning his head to his hands.  
  
“Do you have any idea who could be behind this lie they told Sulrochil?”  
   
“No. No idea, at all,” Thranduil lifted his head, looking at Sulrochil his eyes showing deep concern. “I am sorry you had to be subjected to this horrendous misunderstanding.”  
   
“It was not your fault,” Sulrochil said and for a moment she had a feeling Thranduil in fact took some of this incident to be his fault.  
   
“Thank you, Legolas, for preparing Sulrochil properly in case she should hear anything at all about this,” Thranduil looked at his son.  
   
“Prepare, indeed, but there was nothing good in it,” Legolas said, “Father, it is a long story and we will tell you about it later, but we do not have much time before we ought to travel to Lake-town and there is one question I must ask before we leave.”  
   
“Let us hear the question.”  
   
“Why did you send Sulrochil to Minas Tirith?” Legolas asked, eyeing his father intensely and put one of the strange biscuits that she had been observing all evening, to Sulrochil’s plate.  
   
“Is it not obvious?” Thranduil replied, smiling at the sight of Sulrochil taking the biscuit and cautiously smelling it, like it might be poisonous. Finally, she took one small nibble, and a delighted smile lit up her face, when she took another, bigger bite.  
   
“It may be obvious to you, but not to me,” Legolas said and was surprised by the heart-warming sight in front of his eyes. He had never seen that kind of biscuits on their table, and he was sure it was no accident, they were there now.  
   
“Last year,” Thranduil began, “every time you came back to home, which was not very often, mind you - it was clear you had more feelings towards Sulrochil, than you admitted or even realized yourself. Then Gollum escaped and it gave me the perfect reason to get you out of Mirkwood. I thought you might be gone perhaps three or four weeks, and it could be long enough for you both to realize certain things, but I did not take into account the enormous nobility of my son. Of course, he would be righteous enough to offer himself to the Fellowship to destroy the Ring and his quest would lead him through Middle-earth, and all this would take half a year.”  
   
“I have a feeling,” Sulrochil said smiling, “that no shorter time would have affected us.”  
   
“We both were content on what we had together, and neither wished for more.” Legolas turned to look at Sulrochil smiling fondly.  
   
“It is always like that,” Thranduil replied, sounding thoughtful.  
   
“May I also ask a question?” Sulrochil asked Thranduil, and not waiting for an answer said, “When you ordered me to meet you and you asked me the blatantly rude questions of yours,” Sulrochil eyed him disapprovingly. “What made you see that I had more feelings towards Legolas than what I admitted to you or even myself?”  
   
“That was easy to see, Sulrochil. I remember your exact words: ‘Legolas cares deeply about every warrior with whom he fights, and I am no exception to that.’.” He saw Sulrochil was finally a bit more relaxed and he dared to mimic Sulrochil when repeating her words.  
   
“That did not reveal anything,” Sulrochil said, smiling at him.  
   
“Aye, but I cannot repeat exactly how you said your sentence, because your expression was so proud that you could have very well said: ‘Legolas cares deeply about every warrior with whom he fights, and that is why I love him’.”  
   
“Was it that apparent?” Sulrochil said, puzzled.  
   
“Indeed it was,” Thranduil replied. “Did you notice it was a test?”  
   
“Not at the time, but later I figured it out.”  
   
“Please forgive me for asking questions about your relationship, but I needed to see what I would see in your eyes when I mentioned Legolas. I also needed to see if you were willing to take my assignment even though you knew nothing about it.”  
   
“Of course, I would take an assignment from my King.”  
   
“If you had not passed all my tests, you would have gotten the other package.”  
   
“What would have been in it?”  
   
“Oh, that,” Thranduil said nonchalantly, resuming a bit of his aloofness. “Only some old things I borrowed from Elrond almost three millennia ago to be brought at last back to Rivendell. Nothing we ever again will need in Mirkwood, for they were some children’s toys, marbles and the like. Legolas used them as a child, but since there is not going to ever be offspring in this castle, I decided it would finally be time to return them. I assume Elrond’s daughter will be reproducing soon - ”  
   
Sulrochil struck her fist on the table, and shouted out, “And you had to remind me about this now?” Her mug fell down and spilled the tea all around the table. She stood up, making her chair fall to the floor with a clunking sound, and yelled, “I know too well there is never going to be children for me! Or anyone! And I do not need any reminders of it!" Her face was crimson with rage, when she stood by the table, glaring at Thranduil.  
  
Thranduil stood up too and glowered at Sulrochil across the table. “You have known for your entire life you cannot have children and still cannot handle the fact!”  
  
Sulrochil burst into tears, hid her face in her hands and mumbled, “Please, forgive me, my Lord. I should not have gotten angry at you and please forgive - “  
  
“Please, stop right here,” Thranduil said calmly, and sat down, “and, please, do not ever again refer to me by that title in the confinement of these walls, because here I am not your King - nor is there need to apologize for getting angry about this, because this is a complicated matter and I aggravated you on purpose. I needed to see your reaction.  
  
“Here you can freely express yourself, and your first lesson is to learn to recognize the different situations and learn to behave correctly no matter what happens. It is a fine line between acceptable behaviour and indecent. You managed it quite well earlier when we were in a public situation. I must thank you for not beginning an argument with Legolas about whether you are allowed to fight tonight in Lake-town or not.”  He turned to look at Legolas. “You two have to discuss the matter of childlessness through until there is no frustration, no fury, and no tears left. At least, not for anyone else to see. What is in your hearts, may stay there. Both of you, please do remember that this is the shared sorrow of all elvenkind, for never again will there be children running on the hills of Mirkwood anymore - nor will our window ever again be covered with small fingerprints trying to reach the Moon.”  
   
Thranduil stood up and walked towards the window, turning his back to the others. Legolas took Sulrochil’s hand and they stood silently looking at each other and the solemn, tall, figure by the window.  
   
“Father, we must leave now,” Legolas whispered after a while.  
   
His father turned around saying, “I know.” He had resumed his usual poise. “You young people, go and save the world!”  
   
“Before we can leave,” Sulrochil said turning her back to the others and fishing something out of her pocket. Then she turned back to the others, lifting the crown by her hand. “I have to return this.”  
   
“Did Legolas put you to carry that back?” Thranduil asked.  
   
“No,” she replied, “It was an accident, for he forgot it this morning hanging on a spruce branch and I took it.”  
   
“Why I have a feeling there is another story behind this?” Thranduil said with mirth. “Now give me the crown and I will try to explain to the goldsmith why it is covered with spruce resin. You two go now, but be back soon to tell me all of your stories.”  
   
“Not all of them!” Sulrochil said, fixing her gaze at him.  
   
“Naturally, not all of them,” Thranduil replied, returning the gaze.  
   
“Sulrochil, we need to go,” Legolas took her hand and began pulling her towards the door, “For if you two have a staring contest, we will be here until the end of the world. And beyond that.”  
   
Thranduil looked at Legolas and Sulrochil attaching their weapons. When they were ready, before entering the corridor, they glanced at each other briefly, like they had been doing for the last three decades. Only after the door had closed could Thranduil sit down by the table. For a long while he sat there, contemplating everything that was underway, until he walked to a back door and said to the servants, “Get Limdur here and clean the mess on the table.”  
   
Limdur found Thranduil standing by the window looking at the forest and the crescent moon shaped like a bow on the dark sky. Limdur slowly processed beside his friend, not saying anything, for he knew Thranduil had many things on his mind at the moment and he could not be sure of which he would like to talk. Tonight there would be arrows flying again as many as there were stars above them.  
  
“Every time I watch this view,” Thranduil said after a moment, “it seems to be different.”  
  
“She wanted it that way,” Limdur said aloud the fact that no one had dared to utter in many millennia. “You have been waiting for this day for a long time.” Limdur saw in his friend’s eyes what was in his mind. Soon his son would get married, and finally he could be reunited with his wife.  
  
“The love in their eyes…” Thranduil said, “It has been a while since I have seen anything like that.”  
  
“People rarely dare to show their feelings in front of their King.”  
  
“Limdur, I have a task for you,” Thranduil suddenly said, tearing himself out of his thoughts, “Please take Legolas’ crown to Edraithon to be cleaned.” Thranduil pointed at the table on which it was lying.  
   
“This is covered with spruce resin,” Limdur said, hanging the crown between his thumb and forefinger.  
   
“What would you expect when you let that boy travel through Middle-earth with his soon-to-be-bride, who basically lives and breathes spruce? I am surprised they did not manage to break or lose it.”  
   
“Do I tell that to Edraithon?” Limdur smiled.  
   
“You can say whatever you want because he will forgive everything, and only be thrilled to finally get to resize the crown meant for Legolas’ wife. That crown has been hiding in the vault for too long.”  
   
“How do we know the size of her head?”  
   
“Ask Bereneth. She took all of Sulrochil’s measurements when she was sewing the dress for her. Also, when Dathon arrives, I need to meet him and all of his group at once.”  
   
“Anything else?”  
   
“No,” Thranduil said. “Except no more visitors for me tonight.”  
   
“Good night,” Limdur said and walked out with the spruce smelling crown. He decided to go to the goldsmith with it at once. While walking by a window, he saw on the mountain slope something white coming fast towards the Halls of Thranduil. The White Wizard.  
   
*  
   
“Do you not trust my skills anymore as a warrior?” Sulrochil turned to confront Legolas when they had walked for some time through the corridor and was certain they were out of hearing range of Legolas’ father.  
   
“Of course I trust them, but - ” Legolas began, but was interrupted.  
   
“Why would you not allow me to fight in Lake-town then?” she snapped.  
   
“Because I see you now through our love. I love you, and that means I want to protect you.”  
   
“I know that, but - ” Sulrochil said.  
   
“You have never fought in Lake-town, or any town for that matter,” Legolas said sharply.  
   
“No.”  
   
“Then you cannot know what it is like, to fight in a town. You cannot hide, because your hiding skills function best in the forest and nature in general. Seeing in a town differs from seeing in a forest because the buildings prevent the sight in some directions and the streets are wide open to the other direction. In a forest you see much further in all directions between the trees and your sight is accustomed to seeing in a forest. You cannot even rely on your hearing, because sound echoes differently in a town than in a forest for the several buildings with doors and windows, nooks and corners make all sounds deviate. The streets cross and you could suddenly be surrounded by several orcs, they could come from any direction, including through windows and jumping down from the rooftops. While you can fight them one or two at a time, you cannot survive if many orcs attack at the same time.”  
   
Sulrochil looked him carefully when he was listing his facts expressionlessly and reluctantly she had to admit he was right.  
   
“Are you disappointed in me, because I am useless?” she asked, deflated, and turning to look at the floor. “What will people think of me when they hear - ”  
   
“Stop,” Legolas interrupted and tried to lift her jaw by his hand. “I am not disappointed and you are not useless. Look at me, please.”  
   
Sulrochil let him lift her face and looked at his eyes.  
   
“Remember Chief’s lecture about what makes a good warrior?” Legolas asked, looking into her eyes.  
   
“Aye.”  
   
“He said a sign of a good warrior is to know yourself. You must know what you are capable of doing and what you are not.”  
   
“I know what I can do and what I cannot do, but I feel worthless and I would want you to be able… I am sorry.” Sulrochil turned her eyes, looking at the wall.  
   
“You would want me to be able to do what?” Legolas prompted gently, putting his right arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.  
   
Sulrochil leaned her forehead to his chest; saying in a silent voice, “To be proud of me.”  
   
“I am proud of you. How can you think I was not? For three decades I have been proud to be your Marchwarden partner. In Minas Tirith you told me you killed three orc leaders, one by one, while hiding in the forest. I did not say it to you then, but I felt pride because there are not many elves who could do that. I could not do that.”  
   
“You can do many other things.”  
  
“Of course, but the point is that you cannot change who you are.”  
   
“No, but soon everyone in this kingdom will know who I am, and I feel inferior.”  
   
“Sulrochil, please, do not compare you to anyone. Your best skills are hiding and shooting, you are one of the best with combined skills of those and I am proud of you because of that. You are small, and it is only natural you cannot fight against huge orcs like elves much larger and stronger than you can. When our relationship becomes public, I will be proud to have you by my side.”  
   
“I fear I am not enough.”  
   
“You are more than enough. You are everything I ever wished for and more. How can I make you understand that? What do you want me to say?”  
   
“She is good in field battles and fighting in a town,” Sulrochil said, stepping one step backwards.  
   
“Sulrochil,” Legolas sighed when she finally had admitted the root of the problem. “Do you want me to compare you to her?”  
   
Sulrochil nodded and eyed him intensely.  
   
“There is no point in comparing you two, because your skills are so different.”  
   
“I want to hear it anyway.”  
   
“Alright. You are right in that she is better than you in field battle, but that is mostly because she is much taller and stronger than you.”  
   
“Mostly?”  
   
“Her skills have gotten better because she has fought against orcs more often.”  
   
“And?”  
   
“Do you know what a sign of a good leader is?”  
   
“What? Do not change the subject!” Sulrochil was furious.  
   
“I am not changing the subject. You need to answer me so I can explain myself.”  
   
“No, I do not know the sign of a good leader.”  
   
“It is to know the skills of your subordinates and plan missions so everyone’s best skills are being used best and naturally to pick up the best people for your group.”  
   
“And?”  
   
“If I was choosing my subordinates and you two would show up, I would pick you up.”  
   
“You are just saying that.”  
   
“No. I can admit she is good, very good - one of the best - but her skills are usual, something many warrior elves have. Your skills on the other hand are so unique that rarely do other elves have similar ones. To have someone with your hiding talent, combined with your archery skills, would be a great asset to any group leader. To have you in my group would allow planning missions not many groups could do because they would not have you.”  
   
Sulrochil did not reply, but only stared straight forward to the leather strap of Legolas’ quiver on his chest.  
   
“If you still do not believe me, you can ask about this again when we have the Bond of Love,” Legolas continued after a while. “Then you would feel if I was lying.”  
   
Sulrochil lifted her eyes to him. “I believe you, I can see you are not lying to me. I am sorry about this, I fear the moment our relationship will be public and it means I will be public. I am not used to that.”  
   
“I believe this is the right time to reveal a secret,” he said.  
   
“What secret?”  
   
“On our first day at the Marchwarden training, when we were standing on the roll call, we all saw you were merging to the background for a short while and we all were in awe. Of course, we all can do that for the mortals but you can do that for other elves. That is unique. Then you won the archery contest and everyone else was afraid of your talents, but I knew that if I could have you as my partner, we would make a great team, and that is why I came to talk to you. I was right, you are amazing.”  
   
“So in a way you chose me.”  
   
“Aye, but you also chose me because you were not afraid of my title, and regarded me as your equal.”  
   
“I should have been afraid of your title.”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“Because I did not take into account falling in love with you; and now I am stuck loving the Prince of this Kingdom!” Sulrochil said and could not hold back her smile anymore.  
   
“You are doing it just fine,” Legolas smirked and took Sulrochil’s hand, leading her again through the corridor.  
   
“As for the battle in Lake-town,” he said when they were walking, “if you, still after my dictates, would be willing to participate in the battle, you may come. Now that I know Amathon is there ‘assisting’’ the fortification - “  
   
“What do mean by ‘assisting’?” Sulrochil asked. “He got orders from the King, how could he disregard those?”  
  
“I mean only that if the King sends his Shieldmaster for fortifications, he will do no such thing as ‘assist’. Amathon will take over the whole situation. He takes his best people along with him, and they will barricade the entire place, seal every door and block every little hole in the building. They will blockade the streets and make it certain that no one gets in. It will be quite safe for you and Gliriel - ”  
   
“Gliriel? How do you know she will be there?”  
   
“I have known Gliriel and Maegorodon for centuries and as messengers they have travelled many times amongst men. I know they share our view that elves should help the men in destroying all orcs from Middle-earth. Besides, Maegorodon is a former Marchwarden, so they know Chief and want to help him,” Legolas turned to look at Sulrochil. “And he heard there would be a lot of arrows, so he would also let Gliriel be there.”  
   
“So he is just like you, then.”  
   
“You could say they have much in common with us, for Gliriel is the one always saying what they should do.”  
   
“I did not hear that.”  
   
“But I like it when you are deciding things, so I do not have to think at all myself.”  
   
"How about just shutting up for a while?” Sulrochil said nudging him with her shoulder.  
   
“If you say so,” Legolas replied nudging her back, making her laugh and hide her face on his upper arm. For a while they felt like two teenagers having a childish scrap.  
   
“Are you ready to go to the public area?” Legolas asked when they had resumed their solemnity, walked through the corridor and were about to enter the hall in the public area. There would be guards and possibly also other staff doing their tasks.  
   
“What should I expect when we enter the cave of the dragon? That hall, I mean.” Sulrochil nodded towards the door and Legolas knew it would not be easy for her.  
   
“Everybody will know what you are to me,” he said, “for the rumours spread fast. They do not dare to do anything more than stare at you, if they dare to do even that, because I said, the rumours go fast and they also know you have a more piercing gaze than the King himself. And they know you already wrapped him around your little finger.”  
   
“What?” Sulrochil was baffled.  
   
“Did you not notice that he agreed to give the arrows when you asked?”  
   
“I did not think of it that way, because it was you who asked for them. You asked for more arrows for me. And like he said: he did not want to force you and me into arguing about whether or not I can participate in the mission.”  
   
“That was only an excuse,” he said. “He has taken you under his wing, but he would never admit it directly.”  
  
“You know him better than me,” Sulrochil said, “so you may be right, but there is one thing I do not understand. When you asked him about why he sent me to Minas Tirith, he said it was because he had seen the love in both of our eyes but I fail to see the point.”  
   
“What do you mean?” Legolas asked.  
   
“Alright, he had seen love, but that is no reason to send me anywhere. He could have sent me back home to wait for you when you finally would come back. To send me all the way to Gondor makes no sense to me.”  
   
“You are right,” Legolas wondered. “Did something happen during your first appointment with him?”  
   
“I really cannot say,” Sulrochil replied, and tilted her head, trying to relive the situation, “I was so queasy during our meeting, and I really cannot tell.”  
   
“He must have had his reasons,” he said. “Anyway he seems to like you, but I do not know why.”  
   
“Do you at least know why you like me?” Sulrochil smiled widely.  
   
“I like you because you are impossible and always say the most unpredictable things,” he replied amusedly but suddenly became more serious and put his hands gently on Sulrochil’s neck, just below her ears. “Sulrochil, everything in our lives is changing and I am so happy to have this all with you.” He leaned closer and his lips brushed on her forehead.  
   
“All the arguing and me being unconfident?”  
   
“Also those. Everything,” he whispered and kissed her temple. “I need peace. I need action. I need them both at the same time, and with you I can have it.”  
   
Like a brush of a puzzlegrass she felt his lips on her skin. It was a kiss as soft as the fluffiest of catkins touching her, and she let it seep into her soul. Tightness began easing in her heart. He leaned his head onto her hair, smelling her scent, and Sulrochil could not distinguish him from the breath of a forest. For a moment she was not in a long corridor inside a cold mountain, but in a green forest, surrounded by the warm southern breeze.  
   
Sulrochil put her hand behind Legolas’ head and pulled him closer so their cheeks were touching and she could whisper to him, “It was so easy when we were alone in the woods. Everything with you is easy, when we are alone, but now I ought to learn to live with your publicity, and I will learn. Legolas, I will do it for you. I will do it all for you.” She felt the soft skin of his cheek for the first time on her face, and when she talked her lips were so close to him it almost felt like she was kissing him.  
   
When Legolas began talking, he changed his position ever so slightly so his lips were brushing Sulrochil’s cheek, “Sulrochil, we will do this together. We will do everything together, we will learn everything together, and we will love each other together.” Legolas slid his hand on her back pulling her tightly against him. Their hearts were beating rapidly and Sulrochil shivered at understanding the true meaning of his words.  
   
With the tiniest movement of her head she pressed her nose and lips against his cheek, inhaling his scent deeply. He smelled of the forest with the morning dew, and it made her feel the freshness of the air, hear the rushing sound of the rapids, and yet at the same time being surrounded with the most secure of shields.  
   
It would not have needed but the smallest turn of their heads to feel their first kiss. Their lips were so close and yearning for the touch, searching for it, but the time was not now and they withdrew from their embrace, still standing  very close, but far enough to see the flooding love in their eyes.  
   
“Sulrochil, when we go through that door, I want you to remember I love you. No matter what happens, after we go through that door, will ever change it.”  
   
“Legolas, there has been a huge lock inside me and you have given me the key to open it. Every time you look at me, and I see love welling out of your eyes, it opens a crack more.”  
   
“Thank you for taking the key,” Legolas said and touched her hand. “Do you want me to hold your hand when we go out there?”  
   
“I want you to decide, for this is your place. Either way is good for me, but if you want everyone to be sure about what we feel, you only need to look at me, and they will see our love.”  
   
Legolas took Sulrochil’s hand and opened the door to the large hall next to the exit to the yard. The spacious room with tall columns at each side, which usually held a dozen guards, was full of people leaving a narrow path in the middle for Sulrochil and Legolas. They walked into the hall and everybody was smiling. When they strolled between the silent mass of elves, everyone bowed to them. Naturally, there were guards, but there was also everyone who happened to serve at the castle at the time and could leave their post for a while. There were cooks and gardeners, there were servants and secretaries, and everybody wanted to watch the life-changing moment of their Prince.  
   
The sight was so heartwarming it made Sulrochil smile warmly to all of them, and seeing only friendly faces made her feel welcome, causing her anxiety to dissolve. So when Sulrochil saw Legolas turning his head to her, she could return his gaze and let everyone see their love, feel their bliss. They did not stop walking, so the look did not last for long, but it was enough for some tears to begin to fall from many eyes. Especially those who had been serving there ever since Legolas was born and the devastating death of the Queen not many years after that were crying openly.  
   
They had seen the boy running wild through his childhood, silvery blonde hair flowing behind him, because he never stopped running. Always grinning widely and always doing some mischief in the castle. They had seen him grow up and the smile fading during the long centuries serving in his Father’s court. The smile had disappeared altogether from the castle until some decades ago when it had slowly begun to creep back. Today they finally could see the reason for it.  
   
Legolas and Sulrochil stepped out to the yard and saw two horses already ready for travel waiting for them. A stables elf stood close to the horses and said, bowing, “My Lord Legolas, here are two horses waiting for you. Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said you would know the place that will be your base in Lake-town.”  
   
“Thank you, Aeglosson. We will find Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” Legolas said, taking the reins and patting his mount’s neck.  
   
The night was crafting arrows. All creatures were preparing for the battle. Two solemn riders headed towards Lake-town, from now on it would be them against everyone else.  
   
The trees could only fear for the sake of their children.


	18. The Storeroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments I've received this far. Please keep them coming!

“My Lord Legolas,” Shieldmaster Amathon said, bowing, when Legolas and Sulrochil stopped their horses and jumped to the ground in a narrow, dark street of Lake-town, amid several old, multistorey buildings. “Celairon, take their horses!” he swiftly commanded one of his soldiers, before addressing his Prince again, “The fortifications the King asked us to do are falling into place. Everything is not yet completed, but I assure you, all modifications that can be done in the amount of time we have tonight, shall be done. The enemy forces are approaching directly toward the North Eastern Gate. We are blocking the crossing streets, all windows are being darkened so that they will march a straight line via Market Street here.  
   
“On your left, you can see the fortified building, The Yellow Rose Guest House for Travellers and Visitors. After a brief discussion with Chief Marchwarden Filvendor, we decided this building would be the best for tonight’s desired objective, even though he would have preferred another. We do not have much time, so I believe you do not wish to learn the details of our discussion now. Am I correct, my Lord?”  
   
“You are correct, Amathon,” Legolas said. “Please, do continue.”  
   
“On this building, there are several small windows in every direction. There are long corridors, as well, in which the warriors can proceed to different positions, depending on the movements of the enemy. Would you wish for us to walk around the structure together and see the alterations yourself?”  
   
“No,” Legolas replied.  
   
“That would be delightful,” Sulrochil said, precisely at the same time.  
   
“Sulrochil”, Legolas said and turned to look at her. “There is no need for that, nor the time. I trust the changes our Shieldmaster has made to this building are effective, as always. The result of tonight will be successful.”  
   
“It is not that I do not trust,” Sulrochil said to Legolas and turned to address the Shieldmaster, “Shieldmaster Amathon,” she began, and almost bowed for him, but suddenly was unsure if she should do that, or to be more precise - how to bow to him. Technically, the Shieldmaster was above her in the hierarchy, because she and Legolas were still not yet betrothed, but then again, everyone knew what she was to their Prince and - oh bother, what to do with all the befuddlement! Sulrochil turned her gaze to one of the windows that already had been altered by the elves and continued, even though she had no idea how she was supposed to address the Shieldmaster, “all I have heard are praises for our Shieldmaster and neither of you should believe that this is about trust. No, not at all. I only wish to circle the inn so I can see the positions of the doors, windows and such - and familiarize myself with the feeling of this area.”  
   
“Most sensible, indeed,” the Shieldmaster said, seeing the lady’s anxiety about the hierarchy matters. It was impossible for him also to know how to address Sulrochil, and to be on the safe side, he decided to use neither her name nor the title that she had not yet received. “Let us walk. I will tell you both about our adjustments for the building, and you can estimate the optimal shooting spots.”  
   
As the three elves circled the building, they saw many of Amathon’s soldiers diligently doing all kinds of alterations to the building, making a concerted effort to improve the strength of the structure. An endless stream of horse carriages was bringing sandbags to be used for the fortifications; commands were being shouted, people were doing as they were asked. Wide-eyed, Sulrochil gaped at the large-scale project that was underway.  
   
The building was made of red bricks, and there was a lovely painted yellow rose above the main entry, like a sunbeam always shining on the visitors. It was an inviting place indeed, but tonight it would not welcome the newcomers. Tonight, the yellow rose above the door would be a witness to the blood flowing on the streets of this town.  
  
Like a harbinger of death, the stem of the rose pointed towards the northeast, towards the travellers and visitors of destruction.  
  
The inn felt cosy - if only they could enter the place under better circumstances. The situation was inescapable, though, and Sulrochil had absorbed the essence of the building and its surroundings into her fingertips when they left Amathon to leading the fortification process and began walking towards the main door. Unconsciously, she brushed the strap of her quiver on her chest. When the battles would begin, she would be ready.  
   
Beside the door, a bunch of ragged men with sturdy bows and quivers on their backs were eyeing the incoming two elves when they began climbing the stairs. The men had a sparking fire between a few black rocks and Sulrochil felt in her bones both the warmth of the flames and the chilling looks of the men.  
   
Legolas draped his arm around Sulrochil and glared grimly back at the men over his shoulder. It was a small gesture, and totally unnecessary, but it did not surprise Shieldmaster Amathon at all. The lady was smaller than he had believed she would be, and much more delicate. Her reputation as one of the deadliest snipers of Mirkwood, had crept into his ears, but she was nothing he had been expecting. It had seemed that she had not used one moment for considering trajectories or angles, measures or distances, but only had been searching for ladybugs and smelling the flowers in the bushes encircling the building.  
   
Yet her resolute appearance assured him that she was worthy of all his efforts to fortify this building.  
   
*  
   
The thick wooden door opened, making a screeching sound, and the elves climbed up the stairs. There were two stern looking male elves in their Marchwarden uniforms keeping watch, and upon seeing Legolas and Sulrochil they opened the door.  
   
Chief Marchwarden Filvendor was standing in the middle of the hall talking to the dozens of elves around him. When he saw Sulrochil and Legolas come in, he stopped whatever he was saying and took a couple of steps closer to the door, addressing his words to the two elves who just came in.  
   
“Legolas and Sulrochil,” he said strictly, eyeing them both in turn. “You are late. I understand your tour around the outside of the building was beneficial, but you arrived late to the city. What have you been doing?”  
   
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” Legolas said after a brief glance at Sulrochil. “We do not have an acceptable explanation.” They were both standing at attention side by side, trying to look very repentant.  
   
“What is your explanation, then?”  
   
“The reason for us being late is only that family matters. We should not have made you wait for us for a reason like that.”  
   
“Family matters?” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said, and took a couple of steps closer to the remorseful pair. “Family matters?! Those kinds of things must wait if there are pressing things to be done, as there is now. Which one of you is guilty of this?” He turned his eyes between both elves standing in front of him.  
   
“Both,” Legolas said.  
   
“What do you mean by that? You are not related.”  
   
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” Sulrochil said suddenly, looking directly at her superior. “There are hundreds of orcs marching towards this town at this moment. We already admitted we lack an acceptable reason for being late and now you make us describe in detail what took place?”  
   
“The details do not interest me; I only need to know if you are going to do this again.”  
   
“We cannot promise not having family matters in the future, but we can promise for certain neither of us is ever again going to fall in love.”  
   
Sulrochil gazed deeply at Chief Marchwarden Filvendor’s eyes until he finally began smiling and said, “Congratulations to both of you. Never before there was a need for this, but now I believe the time has come. I want us to honour this occasion with the special protocol we decided with Legolas before he entered the Marchwardens. Prince Legolas, for now, I recognize your royal status and assume you as the Prince of Mirkwood.”  
   
“Filvendor,” Legolas said, “I accept it.”  
   
At once, the atmosphere in the whole room changed. Everybody began honouring the Prince of their Kingdom. He was not a Marchwarden anymore, but their Prince and everyone felt proud to be present at this moment when it was clearly one of his very first public appearances with the lady, who also at this moment was not a Marchwarden but the lady who had stolen the heart of their Prince.  
   
Everybody bowed to the couple standing in the middle of the room holding hands, and at the same time looking both confident and bashful. They smiled to the mass of elves, and with a small glance into each other’s eyes, they made everyone in the room smile as well.  
   
“Legolas,” Sulrochil said fondly after a little while. “The orcs are fast approaching, and I feel that you should say something to end this.”  
   
“I think I would be lost if I did not have you to tell me what I should do,” Legolas said, throwing a glance at her.  
   
“Of course you would,” Sulrochil said. “Now get the words said so we can shoot some orcs.” She saw that everybody in the room were trusted people, so she dared to tease him. The tall figures of Gwennor and Hwinnor were standing in one corner side by side, smiling warmly, and she gave a simpering smile back at them.  
   
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor, I recognize you again as the Chief Marchwarden,” Legolas said, and released Sulrochil’s hand.  
   
“Legolas,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said, “I accept it.”  
   
Sulrochil and Legolas went to stand with the others, leaving only Chief Marchwarden Filvendor standing in the middle of the hall. There was an enormous pile of arrows in one corner of the room, and Sulrochil thanked the King in her mind for providing them. There were also many pieces of armour made of dark leather. A lot could not be seen through the windows because the room was lit, but she could hear the orcs marching towards them. It sounded thunderous to her ears, even though it would still take at least an hour until the orcs reach the town.  
   
“The orcs are getting closer every moment, and we must finish our plan,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said. “We have now in this room thirty elves who all have promised to defend Lake-town tonight. Six more will join us as soon as they finish taking the King’s horses to the forest behind the city. We are here because we want to defeat the evil. There is no need for miracles; we only need to do what we are capable of. And that is - like Sulrochil excellently has reminded us - to kill orcs. Where would we all end up without you, Sulrochil?”  
   
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” Sulrochil said, standing straight and setting her jaw. “You would end up gathering misshot arrows from the ground, instead of pulling them out of the dead enemies.”  
   
“Exactly,” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor said, smiling. “We will need five or six excellent archers to stay in this building and shoot the enemy through all the windows of this building. You must move around a lot, so it will seem that there are a lot more people here. I want it to seem like the arrows are coming through all the windows at the same time. The rest of us go out to the streets. Now I will need volunteers to stay in this building. Please, come stand in front of me.”  
   
Legolas had guessed right, Gliriel and Maegorodon were indeed there, and Gliriel was the first to step forward. When she had taken a couple of steps, Sulrochil also began walking, and when they both stopped side by side in front of Chief Marchwarden Filvendor, Sulrochil also saw three other elves standing in the line. Two male ones who had once been Marchwardens, and one female one, Rirosseth, who was widely known as the best archer of all current Marchwardens. She was a bit faster than Sulrochil, but what made her self-evidently better was her strength. Being much taller, she could kill enemies from a longer distance with speed and accuracy beyond compare.  
   
“Thank you Gliriel, Sulrochil, Haeredon, Esgalwathon and Rirosseth. You will stay in this building and decide together how you will divide the task. I will not name any of you leader. Most of you are or have sometimes been, Marchwardens, and you function best if no one is the leader. Now, everyone can have a short break before the battles begin.”  
   
Legolas went digging into the pile of the armours and soon found three suitable pieces of black leather. “Sulrochil, are you going to wear any armour?” he asked.  
   
“No,” Sulrochil replied. “They are too large.”  
   
“You are right, Gwilwileth,” Hwinnor said. “We could not find anything from the King’s vaults that would fit someone smaller than a cockroach.”  
   
“Were you at the castle too?” Sulrochil asked, turning to look at Hwinnor and Gwennor, who were trying to find acceptable armours.  
   
“Of course we were,” Gwennor replied. “You remember that we were trying to find Chief, and then heard he would be found in the castle. Besides, we knew that Chief would need a lot of people, in case we would have to break into the vault to get the arrows by force.”  
   
“But that was not needed as the King was willing to give the arrows,” Hwinnor said. “We heard it was like the wind was finally blowing in the right direction.”  
   
“The wind could change direction again,” Sulrochil said, “if you two continue with that.”  
   
“Sulrochil,” Legolas said, taking her hand. “How about leaving those two to have their fascinating discussions about weather and going somewhere else with me?”  
   
“Going somewhere else with you?” Sulrochil tried to sound heartbreakingly upset when she let Legolas lead her out of the room. “We had no time to even get into rain and rainbows.”  
   
“How sad,” Legolas sighed, leading their way out of the room between elves all around and put his arm around Sulrochil’s shoulders.  
   
“I cannot understand why she chose him over us,” Gwennor said, fishing out a piece of armour meant for the right shoulder from the pile.  
   
“One can never know what goes in her mind,” Hwinnor replied, holding another shoulder piece, trying to decide if it is passable.  
   
Sulrochil put her arm around Legolas’ waist and whispered to him with a broad smile, “You are better than a rainbow.”  
   
“And you are better than a blizzard,” he replied, turning his head in all directions, looking for a suitable place for them.  
   
“Where are we going?” she giggled and hid her face on his upper arm for a second.  
   
“Any place without other people will do,” Legolas said, leading them through a corridor with many doors in both directions and finally opened one door.  
   
The room was full of wooden boxes with contents they did not begin to guess, but only closed the door behind them. Without words, they removed their weapons. Legolas lifted Sulrochil in his arms, sat down on the floor leaning his back onto the wall and pulled her so she was sitting on his lap sideways, so that her right side was against his chest. She curled up like a ball, and he draped his arms around her.  
   
“Everyone likes you,” he smiled. With his forefinger, he gently brushed her cheek. This moment he had been waiting for the whole evening.  
   
“They do not like _me_ ,” Sulrochil declared, “but the elf you love. Everyone is happy for you and would accept any person you happened to choose. Especially those in the castle do not even know who I am, let alone what kind of an elf I am - how would they like _me_?”  
   
“They will get to know you soon,” Legolas sighed, leaned his head back, and let his hand fall on the floor.  
   
“Aye,” she snapped, “and they will be disappointed! I should be someone you can appreciate.”  
   
“Not again this!” His body tensed and his grip on Sulrochil’s shoulder hardened when he smacked the floor.  
   
“I am not worthy of your love,” Sulrochil pressed on, ignoring all signs of his anger. ”You deserve someone who would be as good as you!”  
   
“Did I not make myself clear earlier? I appreciate you,” Legolas said, pressing both of his palms against the floor and inhaling deeply. “There will be a war in a few moments; we do not have time for this.”  
   
“Or perhaps,” she went on with her rant, “no one can be as great as you, but at least on your level! You do not deserve me, who must be confined behind locks during a battle tonight!”  
   
“All I hoped for, was to hold you near and perhaps say something nice to you before the battle, and what do I get? This?”  
   
“When people hear you did not let me fight, what will they think of me?” she still did not cease, and in a singsong voice she continued, “‘She must be weak and defenceless - and why would our Prince ever fall in love with her?’”  
   
“Do you know what?” he said, unsuccessfully trying to move her face so he could see her eyes. “I am not totally opposed to the idea of hearing some tender words from you, as well, and not your fatuous accusations thrown at my face!”  
   
“You deserve,” she turned her face so that she could see him and yelled, “someone who can save your life, someone who can defend you, someone ‘good, very good - one of the best’.”  
   
“Will you finally stop this nonsense!“  
   
“You are forever stuck with me!” she shouted and threw herself against his chest, hiding her face on his jerkin.  
   
“Do you think I would have stayed with you long enough to get to know you better,” he whispered and embraced her lightly, “if I did not value you, and if I did not wish to be with you? Do you believe I would have stayed with the Marchwardens if I was stuck with some kind of an incompetent, tar-arrowed slug?”  
   
“You should be with someone who can do magnificent deeds,” she mumbled against his shoulder when she finally had got all venom out of her veins, “someone worthy of you, and I feel bad when I cannot be that.”  
   
“I do not want you to be the one who does those magnificent deeds,” Legolas said and hugged her closer now that he heard that her fury was subduing.  
   
“Why?”  
   
“Because great deeds require great sacrifices. You would need to go to perilous places, you would need to stretch yourself too far - and I do not wish for that. I prefer that you would no longer need to kill anyone. Your soul has already hurt enough, and I wish that you could burn your weapons to ashes. I would banish the evil so you would not need to do it. With my bare hands, I would strangle the enemy who was about to touch you, if it meant that you would not need to face the pain of killing anymore.  
   
“I would give you - if I could - a forest to meander between the trees, birdsong echoing in the foliage, juniper moss to soften your steps. I would give you a safe-haven - if I could - and if you would accept it. Would you? Your soul is not meant for killing, but only to freely soar in the bright sky, and please understand I want to keep you safe because I want to save your soul from hurting more.”  
   
“Please forgive me,” Sulrochil sighed.  
   
“Of course, I forgive you,” Legolas said, “but what made you feel like that and say those things? Are you afraid of the battles? If you for even one moment are apprehensive about the war, I will not let you participate at all.”  
   
“This is not about the war,” she said. “I am ready for it - I am a warrior, and I am not afraid of one little battle.”  
   
“What is this, then?”  
  
“Today, everything in my life has changed, and I am not ready for the publicity and being the chosen one of the Prince of our Kingdom! I prefer being in the shadows where no one notices me. Now I am the most newsworthy elf in the whole of Mirkwood.”  
   
“If you hate publicity, how can you wish for doing those magnificent deeds? You would become even more sensational and lure all those curious people around you, making nosy inquiries.”  
   
“But it is different.”  
   
“No, it is not,” Legolas grinned and gently brushed his knuckles on her nose. “You have contradicted yourself, but what else is new?”  
   
“You know what I mean.”  
   
“I know,” he sighed. “Let us forget all that for now, because I need to know what do you think about tonight.”  
   
“Again, it is war,” she said, “and I have been wondering what is different this time.” She leaned her head on Legolas’ shoulder.  
   
Legolas lifted his hand to caress her hair. “Nothing is different. War is always sickening.”  
   
“I mean different in me. At the time of the Battle of the Five Armies, I was reckless, extremely reckless. Everybody died except me, and it was by luck that I survived, not skill.”  
   
Legolas leaned his head onto hers, but did not say anything, and, snuggling closer to him, Sulrochil continued, “I was reckless because I had no reason to live. My father had died, my mother was withering away, and I had no future. No future for elves, and not for me. It would be the same to die once and for all. But fate laughed at me and left me alive, living only a half-life. The only thing I had left were the forests and trees; I could sit for hours up on a tree and look at the foliage. To see the sun shining through the leaves and wind rustling them.  
   
“Then I met you, and you have given me a reason to live. You are the reason why I want to see tomorrow. I want to see you tomorrow, and to find out where our love leads us. To love you, means I have to accept your need to protect me, and that is why I must allow myself to admit my weakness.”  
   
“Do you accept it?” Legolas asked.  
   
“That you wish to protect me, is not hard to accept. Not at all. I actually like it. I like that you are… I mean it feels good that…” she suddenly felt abashed and hid her face into his neck.  
   
“It feels good that what?” he whispered, leaning his cheek to her head.  
   
Sulrochil lifted her head a fraction to see his face. “You cannot guess?”  
   
“Perhaps I can guess, but I would like to hear it from you.” Legolas turned his head, so they were facing each other very closely until Sulrochil turned away a bit, so she was looking down at his chest.  
   
“It feels good that you are strong.” Sulrochil slid the back of her hand down Legolas’ arm slowly. “And it feels good you can lift me like I weighed nothing, and when you hold me in your arms like this, it seems to be the safest place in the whole world.” She moved her hand so she could slide her knuckles down his chest.  
   
Legolas stopped the movement of her hand with his own and gave a small kiss to the back of her hand. “For you, it is.”  
   
“It is easy to accept all that, but the hard part is you telling me how things should be done, I am not used to that.” Sulrochil turned to look deeply at Legolas’ eyes.  
   
“I know it is not easy for you. Most of the time, I find it easier to let you have it your way if it is something insignificant, but I will not allow you to do anything risky, and it is going to be me who says what is risky. You need to accept that.”  
   
“I am trying. It is not easy for me, now when I suddenly should try to also consider your wishes.”  
   
“They are not wishes when they concern your safety. I will never let you do anything I consider that you are not capable of doing.”  
   
“I know you can determine the consequences of the battles like they already happened. If I forget how it feels, I know you are always right.”  
   
“How it feels?”  
   
“Well, in general, I am proud of you, but if it leads to you forbidding me from doing something, it annoys me to no end.”  
   
“I can deal with your annoyance.”  
   
“Perhaps annoyance is too mild a word.”  
  
“I can deal with your anger, fury, outrage, you name it, but I cannot handle you getting hurt or worse. Sulrochil, when I believed you were dead, I collapsed onto my knees into the mud crying there for a long time. I looked at your lifeless eyes, I carried your dead body, I buried you, and I cried. I have not cried for anything since I was a child. I died because you died, and after that, I would do anything to keep you safe. Please, understand I never would force you to do anything, except to guarantee your safety.”  
   
“Legolas, I understand you do this because you love me, but still it is hard to accept. I try to consider it as a part of how you protect me.”  
   
“When I was young,” he said, “I was thinking about what kind of a person I would like to find to love. I had two major wishes which seemed to conflict. First, I wished for someone who was a good warrior. Second, someone who would need me to protect her. I have met both kinds of elf ladies and always thought I would have to settle for either kind. I never knew both of my wishes would be fulfilled in you.”  
   
“After the battle, we shall finally go to the forest and have our ceremony,” Legolas said after a while, and when he finished his sentence he felt Sulrochil was asleep. Her face was against his neck, and the feeling of her warm breath on his skin made his heart ache for her. Soon she would again be forced to kill, soon she would be killing countless enemies - and her soul would get hurt even more.  
   
Soon his soul would again be hurt as well, and through their bond, she shall feel all his pain. How will it feel when he must lay his soul bare before her? There is so much pain in both of their hearts. She has revealed something of that ache, but he has not. She knows there must be some suffering in him, but the amount of it is unknown to her. All the agony began to surface after the supposed death of Sulrochil - and the amount is unknown also for himself. Perhaps everything cannot be exposed until after their souls are united eternally.  
   
She was like a frightened, wild horse; skittish and jumpy, and he ought to soothe her. He was not sure if she could ever be tamed - or if he ever even wanted her to be tamed - but he would be the calm she needed.  
   
Yet, he knew that when the enemy would raise their spears and shout their first battle cries, she would be ready. If she was forced to fight against larger and stronger enemies - and they all were - she was relentless, and would use her speed and agility in her favour. She would attack her prey, bending her lithe body like a lynx; dodging the attempts of her enemy with fine and swift movements. And, even though she did not possess similar strength, her body was toned, and she was quick in her moves. Her back would form a perfect arch right before she would swing her knife; the muscles of her arm tightening and her eyes shining like two emeralds, full of power when she would thrust the knife into her enemy’s throat.  
   
There in the little storeroom Legolas sat, holding Sulrochil’s body, light as a feather, on his lap, feeling restless by the image that had filled his mind. She was made of steel, and he was pleased to have her by his side. She was made of wind, as well, and he would have wanted to lift his fingers to caress her face but did not dare to do it, to not wake her up.  
   
The last time he had been in Lake-town was sixty years ago, and he sighed when all the memories rushed into his mind. Again battles in Lake-town. Then, he had lost everything he believed he had. He hoped this time he would not lose everything he knew he had.  
   
With a little shift of his head, he looked down at Sulrochil, and even though he knew what she was capable of, an irrational fear for her sake stormed in his heart. Was love always like this? To continually feel like he was being stabbed by the soul-wrenching fear for her sake?  
   
The wooden storage boxes could contain anything, but it did not matter now. All that mattered was that she could have a moment of rest, sleeping - and he could have a moment of rest, giving her shelter.  
   
Not after long Legolas felt Sulrochil waking up and he said, “Good morning, Sulrochil.”  
   
“Did I really fall asleep? How disgraceful. How long did I sleep? Why did you not wake me up? Are we in a hurry? Did you sleep at all?” Sulrochil closed her eyes again and slid her head on his chest slowly, to feel his warmth.  
   
“Please, one question at a time,” he smiled, and she could hear it in his voice.  
   
“Of course, you did not sleep,” she announced.  
   
“And I really could answer questions concerning myself,” he said so fondly she knew he was only teasing her.  
   
“Should we go now?” Sulrochil asked, lifting her head a bit.  
   
“Aye, we should go now,” Legolas said, tightened his grip and put his nose on her hair to inhale her scent.  
   
“This does not seem like going.”  
   
“You use spruce resin to seal your braids,” he stated, taking one of her braids between his fingers.  
   
“You have known me for decades, and you only figured it out now?”  
   
“It never before interested me.”  
   
“What? I am offended.”  
  
“And never before was I this close to inspect your braids.”  
   
“I like that explanation more, but - ”  
   
“I know; we should go.”  
   
Reluctantly, they rose up and put on their weapons again. Sulrochil said in too cheerful a tone, “Now you must put on the horrendous armour Chief dug out of the dungeons.”  
   
“They are much more comfortable than they look,” he said when they took a couple of steps towards a pile of armour made of black leather near the door where Legolas had dropped them after entering the room.  
   
“Can you shoot wearing that ghastly cage?” she said, grabbing one piece on her hand and wringing it before her eyes like it was offending her.  
   
“I can shoot, but the result is unpredictable. I leave the honour of hitting the orcs to you.”  
   
“Thank you, I guess.”  
   
Legolas put on the chest armour, laced it, put on both his shoulder pieces, and began also lacing them, when Sulrochil asked, “Do you need help with those monstrous objects?”  
   
“I might,” he said, even though they both knew he did not need any help.  
   
Sulrochil began tightening the laces under his arms, standing very close, making impossibly small knots. She also checked the laces of his chest armour, and after finishing the task, she lifted her eyes to his, her hands still grabbing the armour.  
   
War was looming above them, the orcs marching towards the town, the troops of the enemy gathering. For a moment, Sulrochil and Legolas watched each other solemnly, standing blazingly close. For days their bodies had sought alignment, searched for the right way to relate to one another, desired for the proximity.  
   
Sulrochil tightened her grip on the armour, rising onto her toes and Legolas put one arm behind her back, pulling her tightly against him, and leaning his head down closer to her.  
   
When their lips finally touched, the enchanting feeling of it fogged their senses, the storeroom disappeared, all sounds vanished, and the world was reduced into two unbalanced elves with their delicate newly found love, trying to find one step of the path into loving each other unequivocally. The feeling of losing control was nearly too much. But still not enough.  
   
The kiss was so brief it was over almost before it began. All that was visible was the love in each other’s eyes, and all that was heard was their shallow breathing. All they felt was their bodies squeezing against each other in enormous bewilderment, making them want more.  
   
They realized this moment had been coming for years.  
   
She saw something in his eyes she never before had seen as he bent his head lower and kissed her again, sliding his hand tenderly up and down her back. This time they let it last longer, now the initial shock was over, and the glorious feeling made a nest in their souls.  
   
With closed eyes, they pressed their lips together, searching for the right kind of touch. Sulrochil felt Legolas gently coaxing her lips open with his own. Her heart was pounding blisteringly when she dared to open up her mouth a fraction to his invitation, and the astonishing softness of his lips made overwhelming warmth flush inside her body. When Sulrochil, at last, was yielding under his kiss, it made Legolas breathe unevenly, and the apprehension of her power over him made her tremble.  
   
They withdrew so their lips did not touch anymore, but still stayed so close they breathed the same air between them. They did not dare to kiss more, only stand close and let their heavy breathing slow down. Both felt the same feeling of their love shifting from the first friendship-like stage towards the more intimate. Neither knew how many stages there were for them to explore.  
   
“Legolas,” Sulrochil said. That was everything she was able to say, but it described everything she felt and everything she needed. Any other words would be redundant.  
   
“Sulrochil,” Legolas whispered, looking intensely at her eyes sliding both of his hands under the quiver on her back, caressing her slowly and making Sulrochil shiver under his touch. “All I would like to do is to kiss you more, to touch you more, to hold you near and to tell you about the things which bounce in my mind right now, but I cannot. I need to go out and cool my senses before the battles begin.”  
   
“If my mind was working properly, I would tease you about that, but I am no better right now,” Sulrochil said after a while.  
   
“We will not get any better if we just stand here gawking at each other,” Legolas smirked.  
   
“How about just going to the others like nothing happened, and then you sneak out for the battles?”  
   
“Do you think no one will see what just happened?”  
   
“Of course they will see it, but no one dares to say anything.”  
   
“Indeed,” Legolas said, “they all fear what you would say to them.”  
   
“You should just go out and put your head into a freezing water bucket!”  
   
“Now you sound like yourself again, so we can go,” Legolas took her hand and began walking out.  
   
When they opened the door and walked a few steps along the corridor, Gwennor and Hwinnor came towards them. “The orcs are almost in the town,” Hwinnor said.  
   
“What could you possibly have been doing in the storeroom that long?” Gwennor asked grinning widely when he had seen both Sulrochil’s and Legolas’ faces.  
   
“Sulrochil was sleeping,” Legolas said.  
   
“Legolas was guessing what the storage boxes contained,” Sulrochil said.  
   
“Obviously,” Hwinnor said with as bold a grin as his partner had, seeing precisely the same thing Gwennor had seen.  
   
“You come with us,” Gwennor said to Legolas. “We are not going to leave you alone tonight out there.”  
   
“But you two always fight best when you are alone,” Legolas said looking at both of them in turn.  
   
“Aye,” Hwinnor said, “but we need to make sure you come back to Gwilwileth, because to whom else she would rant, if not you?”  
   
“To us,” Gwennor said horrified. “She would rant to us, but our ears are not meant for listening to that.”  
   
“Yours are,” Hwinnor stated.  
   
“I cannot argue with that,” Legolas smiled.  
   
“Let us go then,” Gwennor said, looking at Sulrochil. “Gwilwileth, we will run out of the range of your feeble excuse of a Warden’s Bond, so Legolas will not be guessing what you are doing all the time.”  
   
Hwinnor and Gwennor glanced at each other and left. Legolas ran almost immediately after them but held his steps. He turned to look at Sulrochil, and for a moment, stiff silence surrounded them.  
   
In his eyes was raging a violent clash between his sense of duty and his forceful will to run away with her now and never come back. In his eyes, decades worth of forming friendship, lightness of his touch on her skin, the weight of his bleak sorrow as he carried her dead body. Dark shadows above mountains, clouds slowly dissipating, the crisp blue sky warily hoping to win this fight.  
   
She was immersed in the blazes of his intense fear for her sake, in his urgent anticipation of forthcoming days, months, years with her - and in his burning determination of not losing everything tonight. The enormity of the moment made Sulrochil shiver – what she had seen had still been only a glimpse of the density of his emotions and the magnitude of his love. The depths of his soul seemed overwhelming when he suddenly turned and darted away, leaving Sulrochil to gather the pieces of this puzzle.  
   
As the tumultuous noise of the approaching enemy flooded into her ears, she realized she did not know him at all yet.


	19. Battlefield of Lake-town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the long unexpected break. I needed to do another writing project (not fanfiction) and take a vacation, but now we are back on track again :)

Still feeling the tingle of their first kiss on her lips, Sulrochil walked to the main hall of The Yellow Rose Guest House for Travellers and Visitors. A massive pile of arrows occupied the floor in the middle of the room. Through a window, she saw the three elves with bows in their hands running down the narrow street under the dark sky with millions of stars lighting their way. One with blonde hair and two with dark hair flowing behind them - and for a short moment, she could forget where they were going and only saw three of her dearest people alive at this moment.   
   
She was not afraid of death, or pain, but her heart wrenched at the very thought of what they all were going to do again tonight.   
   
In the room, there was Gliriel, Haeredon, Esgalwathon and Rirosseth with Sulrochil, and she heard Rirosseth’s words like from behind a veil. About optimal shooting spots, Rirosseth talked, about perfect routes to move in the building, and about what they ought to do to win the battle, but the words did not fully reach Sulrochil’s mind.  
   
She was not even afraid of the pain she would eventually get tonight, after being forced to kill dozens, if not hundreds, of enemies. It was the look in Legolas’ eyes that she was afraid of - the hollow look she would meet, should she get hurt.  
   
But she was not going to get hurt. There had been something in his eyes when he had ordered her to stay in a protected place, that prevented her from defying him. One look on his face and all she could think of was ‘aye, I will do exactly as you say,’ and ‘no, I will not go to the streets’.   
   
It had been one brief look, and she had no idea how he had done it. Neither had she ever believed to meet anyone who could have that effect on her.  
   
The orcs were marching closer to Lake-town at each moment, and she could see in the streets of Lake-town dozens of men in small groups, but how could a bunch of isolated groups form an army? When would the men finally understand they needed a proper army against the orcs? No elves were to be seen through a window, but she did not expect to see them as they were hiding somewhere.  
   
It was not hard to understand why Gliriel and Rirosseth were here - Chief had wanted the best archers here, but to comprehend why the two others were here now, was puzzling Sulrochil. It was not that they were incompetent - of course not - but their shooting skills were at the same level as Legolas’ - and like him, both Haeredon and Esgalwathon would have better suited for fighting on the streets.  
   
Even though Legolas never actually needed anyone along with him in a battle, Sulrochil could not think of better partners for Legolas tonight, than Gwennor and Hwinnor. For many centuries they had been a Marchwarden pair, and their Wardens’ Bond covered almost two miles. Almost everything Sulrochil and Legolas knew about the functioning of the Wardens’ Bond they had learnt from those two. They were the absolute best pair of Mirkwood Marchwardens at the moment and had been that for sixty years.   
   
Never in his lifetime had Legolas been distracted in a battle, but on the other hand, never in his lifetime, he had entered a battle just when he had fallen in love.   
   
If she had been given a choice to pick up partners for him for the battle, she would have chosen Gwennor and Hwinnor anytime. Like thick walls, they would shield him from the enemy. Like wolves, they would attack anyone who could harm him - and like anyone else in their whole Kingdom, they would give their lives for their Prince.  
   
In a way, it was a blessing that they had not bonded yet. The change from the full denial, into a one half of a bonded couple, would have been too much. Now they both have had time to adjust to the change. Also, to enter a battle as a newly bonded couple would have been disastrous. To endure the pain of separation right after the bonding, combined with the pain of killing and the burning need to concentrate on their full capacity, could have ended badly. Yet, she knew they would not have hesitated one moment, because it was who they were.  
   
Sworn defenders of good, born keepers of their oath, they were.  
   
Rirosseth was a born leader, and her persistent commands flew in the hall like sharp arrows - yet, somehow evading Sulrochil. It was good that Rirosseth had taken the lead, making Sulrochil at the same time relieved about her instructions and fully aware that she would never be able to do that. Commanding groups of people and officially taking charge was an entirely different thing than being bossy towards her closest people. Never in her lifetime, had she been a leader and she hoped she never would need to become one.  
   
Still half-listening to Rirosseth’s orders for everyone, Sulrochil was awed by the glimpse she had seen of Legolas’ soul an instant ago. For the tiniest moments, it had felt like she had been flying in the vast sky - the vibrant green forest spreading everywhere she could see. How extensive was the forest of his soul, she did not know. If there even were limits, she would get to explore in time. She had been let seen the forest in him and craved to find out more.   
   
To find out more and make her home in that forest.  
   
“Are you even listening, Sulrochil?” Rirosseth unexpectedly said in a sharp voice.  
   
“I am,” Sulrochil said, even though she had been absorbed into her mind for some time now.  
   
“Are you ready for this today?” Rirosseth asked more kindly, now that she saw Sulrochil was indeed aware of her words.  
   
“Aye, I am ready,” Sulrochil replied, lifting her bow to her chest and looking directly at each of the four of them in turn. “Why would I not be?”  
   
“Do you need me to say it?” Rirosseth asked and seeing Sulrochil nod, she continued, “Neither you nor Legolas should be tonight here at the battle.”  
   
“Trust me, we would prefer being anywhere else,” Sulrochil said and looked intensely again at the others, “but the exact moment we heard there would be battles in Lake-town today, we knew we could not avoid our responsibility. We have pledged allegiance to defend the good. We would not be us if we were tonight anywhere else.”  
   
Rirosseth nodded. “We all understand that, but I must say this to you now: if you even in one moment lose your full concentration, you must quit and go someplace safe.” She gazed at Sulrochil. “Can you promise that?”  
   
“I promise that,” Sulrochil said solemnly.  
   
“Good,” Rirosseth said, “and if you are wondering why those two, who barely know how to put an arrow properly to their bows, are here,” she waved at the direction of Haeredon and Esgalwathon, who seemed to be looking at their bows in wonder, “Chief put them here to tail and safeguard you during the battle.”  
   
Sulrochil did not know what to say and only stood there in awe.  
   
“Finally something that shuts her mouth,” Rirosseth smiled.  
  
*   
  
Suddenly, they all hear men’s shouts down on the streets. The orcs are in the town. Rirosseth extinguishes the last remaining candles, and all five of them go to the windows.   
   
In the darkness, they wait.  
   
As soon as Sulrochil sees the first ghoulish face of an orc, she is ready. Every remnant of her previous thoughts dissipates into thin air. The only thing she sees is the street and how the enemies are moving on it, like pieces of a puzzle.  
   
The arrow in her hand feels perfect when she nocks it to kill the first orc.  
   
Everything is clear now. Love does not distract her but makes her rooted. Now she knows her place in this world and wants nothing more than to keep it that way. The second arrow kills the second orc.  
   
The moment is perfect. This is her world, her place. This is where she knows how to act. She feels every inch of her being, and knows what to do to accomplish what is expected of her.  
   
More orcs fall on the dusty street - arrows sticking from their necks.  
   
She aims at their neck. Always the neck, just above their armour, so she does not need to think. Grab an arrow, nock, aim, shoot. Repeat. Repeat again. She has no time to think of anything when one orc begins shooting in her direction, and she must retreat.  
   
She has thirty arrows in her quiver and on the huge pile there are hundreds more. This is the night of redemption. She runs to another window and finds a small hole in the wall. Silently, she lies down on her left side and shoots through the hole. There is no time to think, only to do what she has been doing for centuries: shoot and kill.  
   
Whenever the arrow hits her enemy, a small piece of her heart crumbles - but there is no time to feel it now, and she shoves it to the darkest corner of her soul like she has been doing for centuries. A room full of skeletons makes a terrifying rattle.  
   
But this is just the beginning. She must switch to another location as Chief wanted them to change places often so it would seem the building is full of elves. She cannot avoid noticing two men lying dead on the street. She tries not to think of that and runs through corridors to a small balcony which has holes on the bottom.   
   
She shoots. She runs back to the hall to the pile of arrows to get more. She fires again. She runs again. Again and again. On her peripheral vision, she can see also Gliriel, Rirosseth, Haeredon and Esgalwathon doing the same. Rirosseth’s orders flow in her mind, giving her stability.  
   
Screams echo in the street, but she cannot be sure what is happening. She just keeps on shooting. The five elves run back and forth in the building, each favouring specific windows or holes for their shooting. The pile of the arrows is getting lower with every moment.   
   
Still, more and more enemies swarm on the streets. More and more dead bodies are scattered on the ground. The pile of arrows gets smaller - does the stream of enemies ever stop?  
   
To the next shooting location, she runs. From this vantage point, she sees dozens of dead men and orcs. She gets angry and takes the first arrow too heavily, it falls to the floor. She needs to calm down to accomplish her task. She inhales deeply a couple of times, and then grabs an arrow, nocks, aims, shoots. Repeats.  
   
“Maegorodon!” an agonized wail fills the building, and all Sulrochil sees are Gliriel’s horrified eyes before she runs down the stairs.   
   
“Maegorodon got shot,” someone shouts outside, but Sulrochil already knows that, because she saw on Gliriel’s back a ghost of the arrow that hit her husband.   
   
The staircase seems to be dotted with blood from Maegorodon’s wound when his wife stumbles down towards her dying husband somewhere down on the street.   
   
Through a window, Sulrochil sees Gliriel collapsing onto Maegorodon’s body. Gliriel whispers something in his ear, but Sulrochil does not know if she made it before he died. Two orcs get closer to the weeping elf, and Sulrochil shoots them both. More orcs are swarming on the street. Sulrochil kills them all to give Gliriel a moment to cry at her husband’s body.  
   
Soon Sulrochil runs out of arrows. The pile is diminishing rapidly; she has to pick the last arrows like they were the last cloudberries of the world to fill hungry stomachs.   
   
A sudden horrible noise of an explosion is heard. “Sulrochil, we must get out,” Esgalwathon shouts. “Come with me! Now!”  
   
Orcs are stampeding up the stairs, and they begin shooting at the elves. The sound of the explosion had seemed to be far away, yet somehow they had broken into this building.  
   
“How did they get in?” Rirosseth yells and shoots the orc who is approaching Sulrochil.  
   
“Gliriel left the door open, and they have a free way in!” Haeredon shouts, nocking his bow and moving to a better place to shield Sulrochil and Esgalwathon. “Jump out now! We will slow them down!”  
   
Sulrochil grabs the last remaining arrows to her quiver and runs after Esgalwathon. Out to the chilling night of late May, they jump through a window. Haeredon and Rirosseth stay in.   
   
The stars light their way, but the stars cannot give any consolation.  
   
Down on the street, Sulrochil sees the diminishing remains of the fire the men had been burning earlier at night. Behind it, the piles of corpses begin to cover the street, but she cannot think of it, must not think of it.  
   
There are dead bodies of the men, the orcs, but also a few elves. Must not cry. Must not cry even at the sight of Gliriel lying on Maegorodon’s body. Gliriel who has a black, ghastly arrow sticking from her back. Someone had shot her from behind when she had been crying for her lost husband. Sweet, lovely Gliriel, now lifeless, getting colder and stiffer. How low can these creatures go?   
   
Sulrochil goes to pull arrows from the corpses, and senses Legolas is in the range, coming closer at every moment.   
   
She does not mind if they are orc arrows full of evilness, the robust arrows of the men or the graceful arrows of her kind. If it is an arrow, she shoots it. She runs through the bodies and draws arrow after arrow, shooting the orcs approaching her. She jumps from one corpse to another, pulls an arrow, nocks, aims, shoots. Repeats. There are so many bodies; so many arrows, so much blood.  
   
As Sulrochil sees Legolas on the other end of the street, she pulls the next arrow out of a corpse but realizes the man is still alive. An excruciating scream comes from the man’s throat when the arrow leaves his body. Sulrochil cannot do anything but shoot the orc who is closest to Legolas. She has no time to help the man or give him solace. She must leave him there, dying alone. Her heart aches for the agonized man when she cannot do anything but continue and leave him alone.  
   
“You were supposed to stay inside the building!” Legolas shouts, and slashes his knife forcefully into one orc’s heart.  
   
“And you were supposed to stay far away from me,” Sulrochil yells back at him, and pulls a few arrows from the bodies closest to her.  
   
“There is no one that far anymore, everyone is here!” he shouts and swings his knife in the opposite direction, the last remaining arrow in his quiver shining his love for Sulrochil. “Go hide!”  
   
“Shoot!” Sulrochil tosses two arrows to him and nocks her bow when she sees a couple of men in trouble. Just when her arrow begins its fly to help the men, she sees in the corner of her eye that Legolas is shooting both of his arrows at the same time. Does he really have to do the ridiculous two-arrow trick every time?  
   
Suddenly there are no more orcs anymore running towards them, but they hear the sounds of fighting behind a corner on another street and run towards the noise. Sulrochil pulls arrows out of the bodies as she runs and puts them into her quiver. Legolas dashes ahead and one by one slays all orcs on his way.   
   
Behind the corner, they find a few men fighting against orcs.   
   
First, she shoots the two orc archers she spots. Legolas does not have arrows anymore - except the last one, that he refuses to use for anything but to save Sulrochil - and he just attacks the orcs, who are just about to kill some men. When the men notice the elves, they seem to get stronger and fight fiercer.  
   
Sulrochil shoots, Legolas fights to save the lives of the men, and more orcs sprout out of nowhere.  
   
Not many orcs are left when Sulrochil runs out of arrows again. She is beyond furious after seeing Gliriel shot from the back; she gets strength from the fury she feels. She has no time to pick up more arrows and grabs her knife. With pure outrage, she kills one orc who was about to hit Legolas.  
   
“I could have taken that one!” he shouts to Sulrochil as he thrusts his knife at another enemy yet again.  
   
“There was not your name on it!” she shouts back at him. She is full of anger and uses her knife so fiercely, she has never done so before. When the last orc is dead, she stabs her dagger at him to make sure he is gone. Piles of killed men and orcs are around her. Anywhere she looks at are bodies of only men and orcs.   
   
Weakly Sulrochil smiles at Legolas. He does not return the smile but freezes to listen to the sounds of their surroundings. Somewhere in the distance, they still hear fighting sounds, but not in close proximity.  
   
“I will go and see what is going on over there,” he nods in the direction of the sounds, and when he sees Haeredon and Esgalwathon nearby, he shouts at them. “Keep her here! Put her in chains if you must, but do not let her come after me!”  
   
Then he darts away.  
   
She hears men cheering, and she hears many horses galloping in the distance. Shouting and more shouting. The sounds of fighting no longer to be heard. Elves are pacing in the area, trying to see if there still are living enemies hiding in the corners, waiting to ambush passers-by.   
   
Someone pats her on the shoulder, and she nods. The only thing Sulrochil comprehends at the moment is that Gliriel and Maegorodon are dead. Both lying lifeless one on the other on a nameless street. The only thing that stops her from collapsing onto the street crying is that she senses Legolas all the time moving around in the area, checking that everything is clear. Only after she has a moment to breathe does she realize she has feared for his sake during the whole battle.  
   
She stands on the street with the bloodied knife in her hand. The dagger falls, clinking as it hits the ground when she finally sees Legolas running towards her along the street, jumping over the dead bodies lying here and there on the ground, and all the time scanning Sulrochil’s body, searching for any wounds. There are no wounds for him to find, but she is covered all over with orc blood. While he lunges towards her, his hair is whipping on each leap, his eyes are fixed upon Sulrochil, showing enormous anger.  
   
Also Sulrochil’s knife falls to the street when Legolas comes closer, his eyes flashing, and shouts, “You should have stayed in!” He stops running a couple of feet before reaching Sulrochil and looks at her in outrage.  
   
“The orcs came in,” Sulrochil yells furiously back at him, throwing her arms up, “and we had to get out!”  
   
Legolas steps closer to her, making her move back. Their chests are almost touching, and he is towering above her, with eyes hard as a rock. “Then why did you not hide or flee?!”  
   
“Because there was no time for any of that!” Sulrochil yells, lifting her gaze at him and sees no explanations will be enough for him now. “Gliriel left the - ”  
   
“Gliriel has nothing to do with this!” Again, he takes a step closer to her and forces her to move backwards, so that her back is against a wall. “Whatever she did, should not affect you. You should have gone hiding!”  
   
“You are unreasonable, I can fight! I have been doing this for centuries!”  
   
For a while, they only glare at each other with turbulent eyes.   
   
“That was different,” Legolas says, gazing at Sulrochil intensely and when he blinks, the fury begins to dissipate in his eyes.  
   
“How?”  
   
Without warning, Legolas puts both his hands around Sulrochil’s face and thrusts her forward, so that the back of her head hits the wall. He leans closer, pins her against the wall and swiftly tilts her head to the left to claim her mouth.   
   
When their lips touch, it is nothing like before.   
   
Everything they believe to know about kissing flits quickly away. Their existences explode. Red hot flames erupt in their souls as the scorching blazes heat their lips.   
   
His fire burns for her, and a frenzied will to conquer all obstacles makes him want to make her know who he is. He wants to absorb her essence into him, to sense her flavour - and to let her know she belongs to him.   
  
She tastes of sparkling spring water, and he is jinxed by her magic.  
   
The kiss is full of need; it is as fierce as his wish to live. The kiss is as intense as his want to see her alive. He does not want anything in halves - and now, when the flames are igniting his soul, he wants it all.  
   
“Back then you did not have me to love you,” Legolas says through the kiss, his eyes glowing like red hot embers.   
   
The instant when he moves further from her to utter his hoarse words, she is left to gape for air. Yet the overriding urge to feel him near fills Sulrochil’s heart. He does not leave any other possibility for her than to surrender to his power, but it is more that she wants, not less. She rises on her toes and tucks her hands to his waist under his armour, tugging him closer.  
   
The dizziness in his head makes him cling onto her like she was falling over a cliff. He inhales deeply as he feels her tiny figure flat between the wall and him. He needs to know what she is made of. The momentous anticipation of coming years with her rushes over him; this is her body, and he needs to grasp every inch of it. Her bewitching outlines are drawn in his mind. He lets his hands trace her shoulders and knows that soon - very soon - all of her will be shaped in his fingers as well.   
   
The desperate urgency of his actions makes Sulrochil realize how much he has been hurt when he believed her dead - and it makes her cry. “I am alive, and so are you,” she says between her sobs.  
   
Suddenly Legolas’ anger changed to agonizing anguish of nearly losing her again, his shoulders hunched under the realization of how close it must have been that she would not be there. He slid his thumbs gently over Sulrochil’s face, trying to reassure himself that she was there and standing in front of him. “You are alive,” he whispered, his eyes full of mist.  
   
He kissed her again so tenderly it made her cry more - the kiss was as soft as the first sunlight on a summer morning. Her tears fell to their adjoined lips, giving a salty taste, and they stood there relishing the feeling of the soft, wet lips sliding against each other until the love overcame the torment, making them smile through the kiss, and it became impossible to continue.  
   
It is only then that they noticed it had begun to rain.   
   
The street was empty, there were no other living people to be seen anywhere. The world belonged only to them. The buildings swayed oddly, the horrible piles of corpses making the atmosphere unreal. Subdued voices came from behind the corner, but everything was indistinct - and the reason for the vagueness was not the rain.   
   
They withdrew from the kiss standing still sorely close and smiling bashfully.  
   
“Sultithen,” Legolas said. “Can you forgive me?” _(-tithen=small, tiny)_  
   
Sulrochil did not reply, only tilted her head slightly to the right, smiling curiously up at him.   
   
Not getting an answer, Legolas got anxious, and he had to say, “Please, say something.”  
   
“Can you repeat my name?”  
   
“What?” Legolas seemed puzzled.  
   
“My name?”  
   
“Sultithen.” Now Legolas finally realized he had given Sulrochil a name and it made him grin widely. “How could I give you a name and not realize it myself?”  
   
“Because you love me.”  
   
“How does that explain it?”  
  
“I do not know, but I like the explanation.”  
  
“And I like your explanations for everything, they are always so reasonable.”  
   
“Legolas,” she smiled, “there is no need for you to ask forgiveness. I understand why you were angry. I will always understand.”  
   
“I am not asking forgiveness for being angry, but for my roughness.” He turned his gaze away, not daring to look at her and asked in a low voice, “Did I hurt you?”  
   
“No,” Sulrochil replied. “You could never hurt me, not in any way.” She also averted her eyes. “I liked the kiss, it made me feel…”  
   
“Feel what, Sultithen?” Legolas whispered close to her face.  
   
“Feel like…” Sulrochil lifted her head, so their lips almost touched, and she felt his warm breath on her skin. “You made me feel…” Her lips brushed his jaw. “...good. At this moment I am able to say only you made me feel good, but perhaps someday I can tell you more about it.”  
   
“I can wait.” He hovered his nose on her face to inhale her scent.  
   
“You can forget the word ‘perhaps’.”  
   
“I know,” Legolas whispered into her ear.  
   
The rain was now heavier making them wet, Sulrochil was pleased as the rain washed most of the blood out of her hair. It was already way past dawn, and even though it rained, the sky was not dark anymore. Someone came running fast along the street, “Have you seen Chief?”  
   
“No,” Legolas replied, releasing his grip on Sulrochil and draping his arm over her shoulders.  
   
They both recognized the approaching elf as Duinor, an elf who had quit at Marchwardens about ten years ago when his partner had sailed to Valinor.  
   
“No one has seen Chief after the battles ended,” Duinor said, walking past Legolas and Sulrochil to look at each corpse on the ground carefully.  
   
“Where was he seen last?” Legolas asked, took Sulrochil’s knife from the ground, wiping it to a rugged cloth and put it back in the sheath on her back.  
   
“It is hard to tell,” Duinor said. “He has moved a lot and could be anywhere, and since he has been alone for the whole battle, there is no one to say exactly where he could be.”  
   
Sulrochil took the dagger from the ground and wiped it to the cloth in Legolas’ hand and put it to the sheath on her left boot. She glanced at Legolas, and without any words, they walked towards the voices behind the corner finding Hwinnor and Gwennor there with many other elves.  
   
Gwennor and Hwinnor would be the successor pair in the Marchwardens of Mirkwood after Chief Marchwarden Filvendor would quit - for any reason. His partner had sailed to Valinor a few years ago, leaving Filvendor to lead the Marchwardens alone. Usually, if one of the Chief Pair quit, the other had to quit as well, but the rule had been changed recently. Recalling the King’s words about how rapidly the population was decreasing, Sulrochil now understood the reason for the change.  
   
That is why Hwinnor and Gwennor were leading the search for Chief Marchwarden Filvendor. Preferably they would have been running along the streets of Lake-town searching for Chief, but it was now their task to be standing here waiting for the results of the others in the rain, which seemed to get heavier all the time, and when they saw Legolas and Sulrochil coming, Gwennor said, “We thought that you already left.”  
   
“You can go now,” Hwinnor said. “You should go now.”  
   
“Chief is missing,” Legolas said. “We cannot go.”  
   
“Legolas and Sulrochil,” Gwennor said, “there are dozens of elves searching for Chief.”   
   
Someone gave a bunch of arrows to both Legolas and Sulrochil. They were hastily wiped clean after they had been collected from the corpses, but they were undamaged, and both gladly tucked the arrows into their quivers.  
   
Gwennor and Hwinnor were on the brink of seeing if they could order Legolas and Sulrochil, but there still was a tiny chance that Chief had had to suddenly go away, and not have time to inform anyone - or had notified any of the elves who were found dead tonight. They knew that chance was almost insubstantial, but before they knew for sure, they could not officially order anyone.   
   
The hearts of Hwinnor and Gwennor already grieved, but they could not let it show in any way. Not until they had finished their task here in Lake-town and ran into the deepest of woods, they could not grieve.  
   
“Sulrochil and Legolas,” Hwinnor said. “You really should go now. Enough elves are searching for Chief.”  
   
“And you would not find him anyway, for you two see no one but each other,” Gwennor said resuming his usual playfulness for a moment, until becoming again serious. “It is finally your time to think about yourselves.”  
   
“Legolas,” Hwinnor said, “you should think of Sulrochil for a moment and not the whole world.”  
   
It was a low trick, but it had an effect on Legolas, who turned to look at Sulrochil and saw she was already grieving.  
   
“Gliriel and Maegorodon are dead,” she said, blinking her eyes. “I do not wish to see death anymore, but whether I see Chief or not is not going to change my situation.”  
   
“I think it makes a lot of difference if you see him or not,” Legolas said gently. “They are right, we should leave now. There is a slight possibility Chief had to leave for Mirkwood suddenly.”  
   
“And no one saw him?”  
   
“Sulrochil, do not argue. Let us go now,” Legolas said, taking her hand.  
   
Sulrochil smiled through her grief, remembering his new secret name for her. There was no way to use it in front of others, but somehow in her ears, she heard Legolas say ‘Sultithen’ instead of her real name, and the anticipation of hearing him say it again was the reason she let him lead her away from the others.  
   
Gwennor and Hwinnor stood silently side by side, watching the two elves stroll away down the street. For years they had seen the enchantment growing between Legolas and Sulrochil, it had been like watching two birds flying high in the sky, never reaching each other. It had been agonizingly long years when they could not say anything at all about it - except to speculate amongst themselves - but seeing it all too clearly. Finally, they were on their way to the forest to perform the ceremony for the Bond of Love - and one could only hope they would get there before the White Wizard would get in their way. Hwinnor and Gwennor were not the best Marchwarden Pair for nothing, and not even Mithrandir could travel unnoticed by them through their woods.  
   
“Do you have a certain place where you wish for us to go?” Legolas asked when they were walking along the street, leading to the west.  
   
“I have never even dreamed about bonding,” Sulrochil replied. “So how could I have a preference on where to do it? A forest is a forest.”  
   
“Good,” he said. “Are you alright?”  
   
“I am much better than you think.”  
   
“Do you need to sleep before - ”  
   
“No!” Sulrochil turned to look at Legolas intensely. “We are not going to do anything until we, at last, have our ceremony.”  
   
“Can I at least kiss you before it?” Legolas smiled and reached to touch her neck.  
   
“Especially not that,” Sulrochil smiled, pushing his hand away. “Or we will never get the words said.”  
   
“From what I have heard, everything will be different after the bonding - and we have kissed only two times. We need more experience so we can compare how it is different afterwards.”  
   
“What a horrible destiny for you, indeed. Not being able to compare kisses. You forget many people do not have time to kiss at all before bonding.”  
   
“I do not care about them.”  
   
“I know, you just want to kiss me, but we do not have time for that. It would distract you too much.”  
   
“Distract me? Never.”  
   
“You would get lost in this town and not find your way out.”  
   
“I disagree, and I can prove it,” he said, slowly sliding his palm on her shoulder again, “let us try and you shall see.”  
   
“Did you hear that?” Sulrochil whispered. She stopped walking and turned her head slowly to hear better. Still keeping his arm around her, Legolas tried as well to listen to what she had heard.  
   
“Someone is wailing over there,” she said, rushing into a narrow alley between two high buildings; Legolas followed.  
   
Some rose bushes were growing on the brown soil. Under the bushes they found Chief lying on his back on the wet ground, muddled from the rain. He went silent when he saw the two elves - and the two elves went silent when they saw an arrow wound in the chest of Chief Marchwarden Filvendor, but no arrow, making them realize he had had to remove it himself and used his last strength to hide in this dark alley.  
   
“Chief,” Legolas said, kneeling beside Chief Marchwarden Filvendor. “We will take you to the healer.”  
   
“I am beyond any healing. Can you not see it?” Chief said arduously.  
   
“My eyes tell me something my heart refuses to believe.”   
   
“Legolas,” Chief said, “Please tell the King I failed,” he looked at Legolas, and his eyes glistened in pain.  
   
“Chief Marchwarden Filvendor,” Legolas said quietly. “You have not failed. We won the battle, Lake-town is safe now. You did the right thing.”  
   
“And please tell my - ” Chief Marchwarden Filvendor could not end his sentence, he closed his eyes, as his whole face grimaced.  
   
“Chief, please do not talk,” Legolas said, putting his hand on Chief’s shoulder and feeling a lump in his throat, making him swallow hard.  
   
“Tell my wife to stay here to see our Kingdom to its end, for the end is not far. And then to tell me everything afterwards.”  
   
“You should rest now,” Legolas’ voice faltered a bit when he realized he was listening to Chief’s last wishes, whose eyes were beginning to lose their shine.  
   
Chief Marchwarden Filvendor closed his eyes, and his soul let go of this world.  
   
“Farewell Chief,” Legolas said.  
   
“Farewell - ” Sulrochil uttered without emotion - and paused. Something in her voice made Legolas turn his eyes to her and fear how this would affect her.  
   
For a while they crouched by the body, not being able to move until Legolas put his arm around Sulrochil’s shoulders, whispering to her, “Sultithen, can you go and get Gwennor and Hwinnor here? I will stay with the Chief.”  
   
Sulrochil stood a moment looking at Chief in unutterable horror, then she glanced at Legolas expressionlessly and bolted away.  
   
Not knowing if he had made the right decision to send her away, Legolas began singing. The mourning song seemed excruciatingly familiar as he had been forced to sing it too many times for too many people, and while he sang all he was thinking was whether it was right to send Sulrochil to get the fresh pair of Chiefs here, but they could not leave Filvendor alone, and he could not have left her alone here. All he could do was sing, feeling helpless before everything that seemed to be falling over him. Again.  
   
Suddenly Gwennor came to him kneeling to the ground, his face like stone. “Legolas,” Gwennor said, “Sulrochil is out there with Hwinnor. We could not let her here again or leave her alone. Go there and try to reach her.”  
   
Legolas’ eyes blinked wide open at his words and his mind refused to find any words to reply.   
   
Legolas sprinted through the narrow alley until he saw two grim elves - Sulrochil who was staring into the distance and Hwinnor who was seeming out of place without his friend. Legolas took Sulrochil’s hand.  
   
“Who is Daedhrogon?” Hwinnor asked.  
   
“He was Sulrochil’s group leader in the army,” Legolas said, glancing at Sulrochil. “Why?”  
   
“Sulrochil came to us looking at both Gwennor and me in turn, and she was not herself at all. Then she decided to tell me her story, calling me Daedhrogon. I guess I must look more like him. She was standing at attention and sounded like she was reporting to her superior in the army. Then she got us here and has not said a word since.”   
   
Legolas nodded but could not say anything. He only stared at Sulrochil’s blank eyes and her stiff demeanour.  
   
“She will react to you, even though she did not say anything to us. Please, pull Gwilwileth out of wherever she is,” Hwinnor said and patted Legolas on his shoulder before walking into the dark alley.   
   
With foggy eyes, Sulrochil was staring at the raindrops falling through the grey sky.  
   
“Sultithen, come with me, please,” he said and began walking her down the street towards home, towards a forest. It was a necessity to get her far away at once so she would not see the horse carriage that would soon arrive for Chief. He was glad she walked herself and was not protesting anything, but the nothingness in her eyes filled Legolas’ heart with fear. Had seeing Chief die been too much for her?   
   
Or had that been only the final straw for her?   
   
She had to have killed hundreds of orcs tonight. He should not have let her come here at all, the fragile soul of hers was not meant to become a lethal sniper again. At least not tonight when her soul - both of their souls - were seeking to be bonded eternally.   
   
Slowly, they walked along the muddy street until Sulrochil froze and refused to get moving again. Her unblinking stare was fixed on the dead body of a fresh-faced young man on the ground. Her eyes were open, but she saw nothing. Talking to her did not have any effect, nor did touching and Legolas could not make her walk again. Even the heavy rainfall on her face did not wake her from her stupor.  
   
Legolas would have liked to kiss her or even hug, but doing anything like that for her in her condition would have been wrong - and his heart ached.  
   
Terrified, Legolas decided he should seek shelter in the town, for he could not take her into the woods, she seemed so lost and broken. “There is a small inn over there. Sultithen, can you walk there to get indoors?” Legolas tried to get her moving on her own towards the ‘Lakeside Inn’ sign, hanging on one door further down the street.   
   
Carrying her would not be a problem, but he feared if he could not get any reaction out of her, she would slip out of his reach into some endlessly deep abyss in her mind. He had heard stories about those incidents, and he tried hard to recall any details about them, but could not think of anything except the absolute terror in his mind should something like that happen to Sulrochil. He had gotten her alive out of the battles, but he could not bear the thought of losing her to some maze in her mind. They did not even have their bond yet with which he could pull her back.   
   
He was not sure if their Wardens’ Bond was of any use in that kind of a thing. There seemed to be nothing he could do for her, leaving him stricken with fear.  
   
If there were any use of their Wardens’ Bond it would be the ‘come here’ -signal, or even the ‘not in danger’ -signal, but making either of them would mean he should walk further from her, and he could not do that - at least if anything else would help. He even thought of what Hwinnor had said and considered if ordering her with army commands would have any effect, but decided against it, that would be most unwise. Using their familiar signals could be of some use, but that would be the very last option, he would still try talking first if she could recognize any familiar words.  
   
“Sulrochil, please come with me so we can get out of the rain into a dry place. There is an inn over there, walk with me there to you get out of the rain. If you do not want to go to the inn, would you like us to go to the forest instead and sleep under a spruce? Sultithen, we can also go back to Mirkwood, we can go home.” Legolas looked at her eyes while he talked gently to her, stroking her hair, but it did not have any effect on her, making Legolas fear for the worst.  
   
Carrying her would not be a problem, except for one thing: she could fall asleep in his arms and in her sleep get lost into the thickets of her soul so that no one could drag her out of there. If they had the Bond of Love, he could use their shared sleep to find her wherever she was and persuade her to come back to him.   
   
But they did not have it - and for what reason? To save this town. To keep the town, but to lose his loved one?  
   
Feeling his soul beginning to shake, Legolas continued talking and listed a number of familiar names for Sulrochil but hearing them did not affect her. “Sultithen, please say something. This is Legolas, do you hear me?”  
   
She did not hear him but only gazed into the void around her.


	20. Rivulets of Raindrops

The hay lining the narrow street of Lake-town bowed down in the hammering rain. Under the rain - and the fear of the elf - did the slender stems bend. His burden was fiendish to bear. Just as he had found her, she had gone away again. Into the thickets of her soul, she had disappeared. His eyes searched for hers, but found only emptiness; nothing reached her, only into the void did she stare.  
  
His soul splintered in the teeming rain as the ceaseless drumming of the droplets battered him. The cloak of uncertainty smothered him, weighing heavily on his shoulders. The final farewell cry formed in his mind.  
  
Again.  
  
After agonizing terror, she had come back to him. He had seen her death, now she was dead inside. The thinnest ends of their soul strings had begun to intertwine, but death had frightened them apart. She was drifting away with the souls of everyone who had died last night. Like a message in a bottle, she floated away from him. It should have been his privilege to devour the letter, but all his dreams ran out with the brown water on the muddy street, coming from nowhere, and not leading anywhere.  
  
A mountain of distress rose in front of him, shadowing the morning. The wind slept, the bushes wept. Silent was the town, with only a gruesome howl echoing in his heart. The morning had broken, as had his heart.  
  
Again.  
  
Trees at the lake’s edge flinched under the sorrow of the elf. Shore’s old alders reached their branches to give cover to the tiny shattered figure whom he tried to shelter. The branches shivered, and from them a heavy shower of water fell on the elves below.  
  
Unexpectedly, Sulrochil lifted her face to feel the downpour better. A shade of interest flitted across her eyes when the last sprinkles hit her nose.  
  
The rain made everything anew, washing her face.  
  
“Washing?” Legolas repeated his thoughts aloud. “Wash? Do you want to wash?” Sulrochil turned her head a little, but did not say anything.  
  
The far horizon whitened along with his hope. Gratitude filled his soul, as he dared to see the truth: she was not too deeply lost in her mind and was reacting to something. Anything.  
  
He let the rain flow in his soul as well, purifying him also.  
  
The threat of darkness had been driven away with rivulets of raindrops down her face, falling from the leaves of the ancient alders. Sulrochil’s eyes showed the faintest hint of interest, and she let Legolas walk her towards the inn nearby. It made sense; no matter how deeply distraught she was, she needed to wash. She always disliked being unclean, and countless times she had been washing in freezing creeks. Now she was covered with orc blood. Why had he not thought of that earlier?  
  
It was likely not only the blood she needed to wash off of her, but it was also something deeper in her soul. Dirt that could not be cleaned by mere water.  
  
Like the spruce cones in summer, her soul should open to the wind.  
  
‘Lakeside Inn’ read on the faded sign, and in they went. There was an old man behind the desk. Legolas greeted him, “Good morning, I would like to inquire if you have a free room for us. Also, should you have a place where she could bathe?”  
  
The man knocked his quill on his desk. Under the stern line of his grey eyebrows, he peered at both elves in turn, trying to decide if he would accept their request. The inn was empty, so there were rooms available. Everyone with any wit had left the town. The man had never seen either of the elves, but the lady was clearly shattered and lost - and not to mention dirty. What had affected the elf that much, he could not understand. Usually, they handled the battles well. He also recognized the deep worry in the male one’s eyes, and that was the reason he decided to help them. A hint of arrogance on the elves' part and the man would have said the inn was cramped and overcrowded - even though there were no living souls to be seen, except for the three of them.  
  
“We have a room available for you, and there’s a sauna in our backyard, but don’t you think you should go and help her?” the man said, nodding towards Sulrochil’s forlorn demeanour. Her eyes were still unfocused as if she did not fully comprehend where she was.  
  
“You may be correct that she would need help,” Legolas said, the realization dawning upon him, “but of course all women fled the town last night, so there is no one to help her.” He turned his eyes to the scattered paper scrolls on the desk and in his mind, he saw them rolling over the edge of the table, rustling as they fell on the floor.  
  
“You ain’t gonna do it?” the man asked, not truly believing what he had just heard.  
  
“No, I shall not,” Legolas said, lifting his head again and looking straight into the man’s eyes. “I cannot do it, so if there is no woman available, she has to do it herself.”  
  
The man had heard many odd things about elves, but they usually kept to themselves, so he had not met elves often. He recognized the look in the eyes of the male elf - it was clearly deep affection. It was strange that he had asked for one room for them, but could not bathe together. The elves seemed as odd as the man had heard. If a man took a woman into the same room with him, the bathing would be the last thing on their minds.  
  
The uneasiness on the elf’s eyes was so severe, the man decided he would let him out of his misery. “Not all women fled,” he said. “My wife is back there in the sauna, washing clothes. She can be of help, please come with me.”  
  
The man opened the back door, and all three of them walked through a small gloomy yard towards a grey wooden shack on the farthest end of the yard. Thick smoke was rising out of the chimney, and there was a faint smell of fresh birch leaves. He knocked on a door. A sturdy woman opened it, hot steam streaming all around her. She had her grey hair on a large bun, and her rugged apron was soaking wet.  
  
“Tiemaina, this lady elf needs washing,” the man said. “Please, make sure she washes and help her if needed.”  
  
“Sulrochil, give me your weapons,” Legolas said in Elvish. “I will clean them myself.”  
  
As in slow motion, she handed him her quiver, bow and knife.  
  
“Also your dagger,” he said, and she reached her left boot and gave it to him as well.  
  
“Master Elf, please tell me, does she understand anything I say?” Tiemaina asked, casting worried glances at both elves.  
  
“Sulrochil will understand everything, please do not worry,” he said, smiling reassuringly.  
Tiemaina grabbed Sulrochil by her arm and ushered her to the warm bathing place, called sauna, “Now Sulrochil, come on in. Oh my, how titchy you are...”  
  
“I will now show you your room,” the innkeeper said to Legolas and began walking back to the main building. Since the inn was empty, he could give any of the rooms to the elves, but out of curiosity, he decided to try to question the elf more. “What kind of a room do you want?” he asked when they entered the main building.  
  
“Any room will do,” Legolas said. “Preferably a room without windows, because she needs to sleep and that is difficult in the daylight.”  
  
“I mean, do you want a room with one bed or two beds.”  
  
Legolas figured out what the man was trying to pry and decided to give him the information he clearly wanted smiling politely. “Please, give us the smallest room you have, with the narrowest bed possible, because I will not let her go very far from me.”  
  
“I see,” the man said, smiling for the first time after the elves entered his inn. “This way.”  
  
The room was small, and there was one bed, and a small stool in it, some hooks and candle holders on the wall but nothing else, not even a window, making it perfect for sleeping during the daytime.  
  
“Anything else?” the man asked.  
  
“Please, could we have water to drink and should you have chamomile tea, that would also be appreciated.”  
  
“Of course. Nothing to eat?”  
  
“If it is not too much of a bother, but not much because I doubt she will eat any of it,” Legolas said. “And could I have a bucket of water and some cloth so I could clean our weapons in the backyard?”  
  
The man had heard so much about the elves being so hoity-toity and full of self-importance he could not believe his ears when this one lacked all the conceit the elves were supposed to have. By the rumours, the worst were the King and the Prince, but those had not been seen in this town in sixty years. And, also by the rumours, even the King had been seen showing some sort of compassion during the war, but not his cold-hearted son.  
  
Everyone knew most of these elves tonight aiding the men of Lake-town were not soldiers, but mere rangers. The elves had some odd name for them, but rangers they were nevertheless, clad in modesty.  
  
Still, there was an air of pride about this elf making the appearance quite remarkable.  
  
Legolas got what he had asked, and sat on a bench in the backyard alongside the house to  begin cleaning the weapons. There was not much, but he needed something to do while waiting for Sulrochil. It felt ridiculous to be waiting for her like that, but he would not leave her alone.  
  
With a wet cloth, he began wiping both of their weapons and all of their arrows clean, and then drying them with another cloth.  
  
“I remember you,” a voice was heard not far from Legolas. There was an old woman with a wrinkled face sitting on a bench next to him. He had thought the woman was dozing.  
  
“I have not been in this town for many decades,” Legolas replied while cleaning the weapons, trying to decide if she could be the innkeeper’s mother.  
  
“I was a child back then, but I remember you nevertheless.”  
  
“I see.” The last time Legolas had been in Lake-town was sixty years ago during the Battle of the Five Armies, and he tried to calculate if the woman really could remember him. She would have to be at least seventy years old, but it was possible.  
  
“Now you’re thinking what nonsense the old hag is babbling,” the woman cackled dryly. “But I don’t care. I’m too old for caring what people think of me. I ain’t a fool. Of course, I know you’re older than me, but Master Elf, do you know something?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“In a way, I’m much older than you,” the old woman smiled with a crooked smile. “It’s because we get old, we get sick, and we get tired, and I know I can’t live long anymore. I could die today, and I ain’t afraid. I can’t escape death, and that makes me much older than you.”  
  
Legolas did not reply, and the old woman continued. “But I wasn’t going to talk about that. No. What I had in mind is that I really remember you, and, Master Elf, I know who you are.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“When I was a child the older girls told stories about elves, especially about an elven prince who was the most handsome of them all, dashing and brilliant and all those stupid things young maidens dream of. We all wished for the prince come with his white horse to rescue us - but never mind, like I said, we were only foolish little tots. And then came the horrible war, you call it The Battle of the Five Armies, but we call it The Rotten War because so many people died.”  
  
“It was indeed a gruesome war.” Legolas was not entirely sure if he wanted to hear all this, and perhaps the woman would forget her story and begin to reminisce about the war.  
  
“But I wasn’t going to talk about the sickness of the war, but about you.”  
  
“What about me?” Legolas turned to look at the old woman. So, there was no way she would forget it.  
  
“Ha, you’re curious. And you can’t escape my blatherings, because you’re waiting for that door to open.” She pointed at the warped door of the sauna across the yard. “So, I was twelve years old then, and they took all of us to a hiding place and then I saw through a hole in the wall someone striding past us. I saw an elf, who would have been handsome if there had been even a trace of warmth in his eyes. The eyes of that elf were so cold, so icy, they seemed to be able to freeze the whole town. I was scared, and when someone told me that was the Prince of Mirkwood, I lost my belief in the goodness of the elves.”  
  
There was nothing Legolas could not say, and he only stared at the grey door of the sauna deeply in his thoughts.  
  
“You’re reliving those days now in your mind. Forget them,” the old woman said.  
  
“It is hard to forget.”  
  
“Forget it all, because today you're nothing like that. Your eyes ain't cold but full of love. Something has changed you, and it is not hard to see the reason why you have love in your eyes today. So, forget it all and think of the reason which happens to be in the sauna washing herself.”  
  
Legolas turned to look at the old woman seemingly shocked making her guffaw so hard that she began coughing and smacking her knees, “Well, I didn’t say you should picture her in your head when she’s in there stark naked, did I?”  
  
“I was not.” Legolas turned his eyes away and leaned his back onto the wall.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, don’t try to fool me. You elves are so weird. You live thousands of years, and you have a hard time thinking about her without clothes.”  
  
“We actually do not live thousands of years, but eternally, and everything must happen at the right time.”  
  
“But you do love her, don’t you?”  
  
“Aye, I love her.”  
  
“Then what’s the problem?”  
  
“We are supposed to learn everything together, and there is no way to rush things.”  
  
“But thinking it in your mind can’t harm anyone?”  
  
“Actually it can. It could harm me, and it could harm her. Doing it could harm the whole society of ours. It must be hard for you to understand that we cannot do certain things until we do it together with the one we love. Think of it this way: if we could, for example, think about anyone without clothes whenever we wanted, we could do that for thousands of people during our lifetime. If we could, for example, kiss anyone before we love them, we could kiss thousands of people. Then those things would not be special, and for elves they are meant to happen only with the person you love. Love is sacred for us, and there is no way to do things until we love someone. We do not even think about those things.”  
  
“Then I won’t tell you about the tales the older maidens spun about you,” the old woman cackled evilly.  
  
“What?” Legolas was aghast.  
  
“You poor prince have no idea about what kind of stories go around in Lake-town about you. You would be mortified if you heard even half of those tales because you are doing things in those stories you probably can’t even dream of.”  
  
“Please, spare me the details.” Legolas knew men could spin stories about whomever they wished, imagine doing things with anybody, and even do those things with people they did not love -  and in a way it made sense they would make up stories about the famous elven prince, but he did not wish to know anything more about the offending tales.  
  
“Don’t worry, those stories are ancient,” she said. “Nowadays we rarely see elves around in Lake-town. I guess the maidens nowadays don’t even know who you are.”  
  
“Good,” Legolas said but could not shake out of his mind the image of giggling young maidens telling revolting tales about the elven prince. “Why did you have to tell me about these repulsive stories?”  
  
“I got you to forget your worries for a moment,” the old woman said, gazing at the elf, who, at hearing her words, recalled again why Sulrochil was in the hot steamy shack, called a sauna. All distress came flooding back to him.  
  
“So, have you kissed her?” she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  
  
“I am not going to answer that.” Legolas glanced at the old woman, stood, and put on his own quiver, grabbing all the rest of the weapons in his hands. “I will take these to our room.”  
  
“You have kissed her!” she announced triumphantly, pointing towards the elf with her forefinger.  
  
“What made you believe that?” Legolas asked, genuinely curious.  
  
“Ha, that’s easy! If you hadn’t, you’d have been embarrassed when I asked about it.”  
  
Legolas did not reply but only turned smiling towards the main building to get all their gear to their room. He was almost stepping through the door into the corridor when he heard the creaking sound of a door opening in the backyard and a shout, “Master Elf, where do you think you’re going? You ain’t leaving her alone here!”  
  
Tiemaina was standing on the threshold of the sauna, hands on her hips, and eyes flashing.  
“No, I am not,” Legolas said, biting back a smile. The look of Tiemaina was so familiar to him. Usually, it came from the other direction, though. “I was only going to take our weapons to our room. Is Sulrochil ready?” He walked through the yard closer to the sauna.  
  
“Aye,” Tiemaina replied. “But she is in no condition to be alone. She’s only dreaming all the time; not talking to me nor even looking in my direction. I doubt if she knows which way is left and which is right. I had to wash her cloak and her jerkin. The clothes are drying back there and can be fetched later. And here-” she handed Legolas a pouch, “-are her things. I can’t understand how much stuff she can have in her pockets and still look so skinny.”  
  
Sulrochil came out of the sauna, wearing so big hooded borrowed cloak that not much of her was visible, except for her eyes, which seemed much more normal, as if she could now comprehend where she was. “Thank you Tiemaina, for helping her. I will take her now,” Legolas said.  
  
Tiemaina turned and went back to the sauna, slamming the door behind her. Sulrochil took Legolas’ hand and began walking towards the main building. He was relieved to find out the sauna had eased her distress. If she was not talking to Tiemaina, or not even looking at her, did not mean she was in stupor anymore - that was only Sulrochil’s usual behaviour with strangers.  
  
When they opened the door to their room, both could see there were two steaming mugs, smelling of herbs, two slices of bread, a jug of water on the little stool, and an unlit candle in a candlestick on the wall.  
  
When they shut the door, it was pitch-black.  
  
Legolas dropped everything he was carrying to the floor and began digging his flintstone out of his pocket. He could not proceed, because at once Sulrochil wrapped herself tightly around him, tugging the strap of his quiver. “Take this off,” she begged, pushing her forehead against him. “We can light the candle later.”  
  
“Alright,” he tried to lift his arms to unfasten the buckle, “it would be easier though if you loosened your grip for a moment.”  
  
She complied, and he removed his quiver and put it to the floor. She hugged him fiercely for a moment and then relaxed, nuzzling her face against his chest. Slowly, he pulled her hood off, leaned his cheek on her wet hair and inhaled deeply. Feeling his steady breath on her ear, warmed Sulrochil and she could not help crying.  
  
“Legolas, I am afraid,” Sulrochil said, hiding her teary face onto his chest. “I cannot understand what happened. When I saw Chief lying on the ground, it was not only him but also Heledirchon. Both at the same time and yet each separately. Why did I have that kind of a reaction? What was it? Why I am again reliving his death? It has been sixty years now and why does it always stick with me?”  
  
“I have no answers for you. All I know is that you are here now and I am not going to let you go,” Legolas said stroking her back. “I felt so paralyzed when you seemed to be out of reach. You should not have seen Chief dying.”  
  
“I have seen worse. I have seen much worse and still never had this kind of a reaction. What was it?”  
  
“You killed so many tonight.”  
  
“Aye, I killed many, but I was quite alright before we found him.”  
  
“Do you remember telling Hwinnor and Gwennor about it?”  
  
“No. Why?” Sulrochil lifted her head a bit.  
  
“Because Hwinnor said you called him Daedhrogon.”  
  
“What?! Why can my mind not finally let go of Heledirchon’s death ?”  
  
“Could it be that you still feel guilty about being the only one to survive of your group?”  
  
“It could be, but why can my mind not let it go?” Sulrochil said. “I hate this!”  
  
“You always say there is a gap in your vision about Helediron’s death. First, he says he had a vision, and then your vision blurs for a while. The answer must be what he had seen in his vision.”  
  
“But I cannot remember it!” Sulrochil spat angrily and calmed down at once. “Please, forgive me, this is not your fault, and I should not get angry at you. I will not get angry, but I feel horrible, and I am frightened. I fear there is something too broken inside me.” Sulrochil lifted her face up closer to Legolas.  
  
“For a moment I feared that too,” Legolas whispered, lowering his head so close their cheeks gently pressed against each other, “but you came back. Thank you for coming back to me. You did not disappear wholly into your mind, and that means that although your wounds are deep, they are not too deep...” Legolas’ voice faded.  
  
His eyelashes softly brushed her face, when he closed his eyes and she said, “I am sorry I made you fear for - “  
   
“Please, stop that,” he whispered and cupped her chin in his fingers. “You are not going to begin apologizing about what happened. It was not your fault. I should not have let you there at all last night.”  
  
“This is not your fault!” she hissed, turning her face away. “I am wounded and thus inadequate! I heard your voice all the time when you were talking to me, but I could not answer you. It was like I was trapped in myself and my existence crumbled into pieces, but still it was nothing compared to what you must have endured! You already have suffered my death, and even though it was not real, your heart still believes that it was. Then, you saw me almost fade away. Are you alright? I mean truly alright?”  
  
“I am fine,” he stated.  
  
Abruptly, he pulled her closer to him and held her head tightly against his chest. His thumb moved idly on her cheek, and Sulrochil was not sure if he tried to comfort more himself than her, but his tone had made it clear that this topic was out of the discussion.  
  
Perhaps one day he would open up, but not today. Sulrochil was in a dead-end. She knew how it felt when a loved one died, and what Legolas must have felt was infinitely worse. She wanted to help him, but she could not do anything if he did not willingly let her. It infuriated her, but she had no choice but to drop her anger and continue dwelling on her problems to give him time to hide his sorrow now. He would talk when he was ready. ‘Hopefully’, she added in her mind.  
  
Aloud, she said, ”It was terrifying to be lost in my mind and not able to do anything, and I am afraid of…” She could not end her sentence because tears welled up in her eyes again. It was hard to distinguish if she wept more because of her own pain, or his.  
  
“Sultithen, what is it that you are afraid of?” Legolas said softly.  
  
“That my soul is too broken to be bonded.”  
  
“No, it is not.”  
  
“How can you know that?!” Sulrochil suddenly screamed and forced herself free from the embrace, thrusting her hands towards his chest. “You cannot know what damage there is in my soul!”  
  
“No, I cannot know if you do not tell me about it -”  
  
“How can I tell you anything about it when I do not know it myself?!” Sulrochil yelled, all her smothered outrage exploding. “I do not know what there is in my soul and how deep the wounds are! And what possibly was in your mind when you got us this abhorrent room where I cannot even see you when I am yelling at you?!”  
  
“Perhaps you forgot that there is a candle in this room,” he said. “A candle you refused to let be lit.”  
  
“But why are there no windows?!”  
  
“I chose this room because you should sleep and it is morning - ”  
  
“The daylight will not bother me in the slightest if I am really going to sleep, but I am not tired!”  
  
“You are exhausted and - ”  
  
“Why do you keep telling me what I am and what I am not?!” she went on with her tirade, her arms flailing in the air. “I am not exhausted!”  
  
“Of course not, you are only furious. And I just happen to be in the line of your fire.”  
  
“Who else if not you? This room is really infuriating. You must light the candle now so I can see you!”  
  
“The candle will not be lit until you calm down, or otherwise, your rampage will knock it down and burn the whole town with it!”  
  
“It will not!” she yelled.  
  
“Of course not,” Legolas tried to calm Sulrochil. “You must know there is no such thing as a too damaged soul for bonding.”  
  
“I do not know, and you cannot know it either!” she shouted. “Mine could be too shattered! My soul could be broken into a million pieces and scattered into dust! I hate it when there is something in me, and I do not understand it! How can my soul get bonded if the wounds are too deep?”  
  
“Our souls can get bonded regardless of any kind of wounds,” Legolas said. “You have some, and I have some - ”  
  
“Oh, so now you have wounds too?” Sulrochil snapped. “You have never talked about any of it and - ”  
  
“I have not been able to talk about it and - ”  
  
“Now I am suddenly supposed to believe even you could have some wounds - ”  
  
“Of course, there are wounds in my soul! You must know no elf can do for many millennia what I have been doing and not get wounded - ”  
  
“Perhaps I know that generally, but if you never talk, how can I - ”  
  
“Never talk?” Legolas said and began to sound aggravated. “I very well could not have talked about this before everything. After that, there has been no time and perhaps - ”  
  
“But I - ”  
  
“Let me finish what I am going to say!”  
  
“But - ”  
  
“Just be quiet and do not always interrupt me!” he shouted. “I was going to say right now I can only admit the constant killing has affected and wounded me, but perhaps I can talk about it properly only after we have bonded.”  
  
“Perhaps?” she continued her provocations. “But are you not sure if you ever talk about it?”  
  
“Do you really have to be so annoying?”  
  
“I am not annoying you on purpose, I just feel bad.”  
  
“I know you feel bad,” he said, “but do you need to say such hateful things to me? I have feelings too.”  
  
“I am only trying to talk.”  
  
“This is not talking but picking a fight with me. Could you calm down?”  
  
“No,” Sulrochil said and sounded like the worst spike of her anger had melted.  
  
“Then quarrel as much as you wish,” Legolas said, recognizing Sulrochil’s fury finally ebbing. “I will eat while you are at it.” He took a slice of bread and sat on the bed so forcefully the bed made a squeaking sound.  
  
“You cannot just eat when I want to talk!”  
  
“I will talk to you when you stop infuriating me.” He reached for the tea. “You should also take a mug of tea, sit down and drink it.”  
  
“Why can I not also have bread?”  
  
“Take whatever you wish and shut up,” he said, and clanked his mug on the floor.  
  
Sulrochil took her mug and the slice of bread and sat onto the bed next to Legolas, for a while they ate in silence. Like always, Sulrochil’s anger began to dissipate after not too long when she had a moment to realize the foolishness of her outrage once again.  
  
“At least the innkeepers must know now I woke up from the daze,” Sulrochil said with a smile in her voice and snuggled closer to Legolas leaning her shoulder to his upper arm.  
  
“True. After that show, they cannot be any more worried about anything except my ears.” Legolas draped his arm around Sulrochil’s shoulders, inhaling the scent of her hair. Oddly it was not the usual spruce, but birch.  
  
“I am sorry,” Sulrochil said quietly, lifting her face closer to his.  
  
“I know you are.” Legolas lowered his face closer hovering his lips near her cheek whispering, “I cannot even begin to remember when is the last time you ate anything, so before those tea and bread on your hands is consumed fully, I will not lower my lips one inch closer to you.”  
  
“That is cruel,” Sulrochil said, faking a sad tone. She turned her head away and continued more lightly, “The cruellest it is towards you because this slice of bread is too big for me and it could take two or three days until I manage to eat it all. I can wait for the kiss, but can you?”  
  
“How about making a deal?” he asked at once.  
  
“What deal?”  
  
“You will eat as much as you can, and I will help you by eating the rest of it?”  
  
“What a clever plan.”  
  
“Stop talking and eat.”  
  
“Do you know that I can talk while I eat?” Sulrochil said nibbling her bread. “And thank you for getting us this room without windows.”  
  
“Are you now thanking me for it?”  
  
“Aye. I can eat but you do not see it.”  
  
“I do not see it, but I can hear your munching.”  
  
“I am not munching!”  
  
“It sounds like a bear eating her first meal after the winter sleep.”  
  
“You might want to reconsider your words, or I might slow down my eating,” she stated.  
  
“I might stop talking altogether because you have a brilliant expertize to turn against me, regardless of what I say.”  
  
“Well, I have to be an expert on something.”  
  
“You are ingenious at many things.”  
  
“Like at rising storms and annoying you to no end.”  
  
“Aye,” he sighed, “and you seem to be also talented at recognizing your strengths.”  
  
“Do you know what?” Sulrochil asked. “How about I twist the bread into two parts, so we get it eaten faster?”  
  
“That was the most sensible thing you ever have said.”  
  
“And that was the most endearing compliment you ever said to me.” Sulrochil handed Legolas her mug. “Hold that so I can halve the bread.”  
  
Legolas took the mug and drank some tea.  
  
“You are stealing my tea,” Sulrochil said, giving him the larger piece of the bread.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, sipping her tea again, “my mug is on the floor, and I cannot find it anymore.”  
  
“Of course,” she humphed, knowing that, by the sound of setting the mug on the floor earlier, they both knew the exact position of his cup beside the bed, including in which direction the handle pointed, “because there is no light in this room - thanks to your half-witted choice.”  
  
“My choice? It was you who said we should not light the candle.”  
  
“But it was your choice to take this ghastly room.”  
  
“How can the same thing be foolish and ingenious at different times?”  
  
“Because I say so.”  
  
“So, anything I do or say can switch at any time from ingenuity to ridiculousness, out of the blue, depending on your whims?”  
  
“You put it so elegantly, but that is more or less the truth.”  
  
“Naturally. The hardest part with you is that I can never be quite sure if you are serious or not.”  
  
“I am always serious, except when I am not.”  
  
“Did you know you are impossible?” Legolas sighed, trying to estimate how little Sulrochil actually ate if his share of the bread is this large.  
  
“Aye,” Sulrochil said, swallowing the final bite of her bread. “Are you finished with the bread, so I can kiss you?”  
  
“How did this turn out like I am the one who has to eat the bread?”  
  
“You wanted us to make a deal.”  
  
“I do not care about any deals anymore,” Legolas touched Sulrochil’s cheek trying to gently pull her to a kiss.  
  
“Usually you want to keep your promises and deals properly,” Sulrochil replied yielding into his pull enough their faces came close but not enough to kiss.  
  
“If you go on with this endless prattle of yours, I might have to kiss you to silence you. I have a feeling that might be the only way to end your chatter.”  
  
“You seem to be quite resourceful when it comes to making up reasons to kiss me.”  
  
“And you make it sound like it is uncertain if it is clever or foolish.”  
  
“I am not completely used to how it makes me feel, so you need to give me more proof.”  
  
“Proof? For you? I can give you as much proof as you need, but before that, please tell me, choosing you, which is it?” Legolas asked. “An ingenious choice or ludicrous?”  
  
“You did not choose me. Love chose us.”  
  
Her words were meant to be very light, and also her tone hinted amusement, but the truth behind the words hit some inner knot in Legolas’ soul, he did not even know existed, like a thousand arrows making the knot slowly begin to unravel.  
  
“Sultithen, how tired are you?” he whispered and his lips brushing her ear made her shiver.  
  
“Like I said, I am not tired at all.” Sulrochil turned her head, hovering her lips by his jaw, but could not properly reach him to kiss.  
  
“Could we just go at once to the forest and have our bonding ceremony now?” Legolas said, and Sulrochil recognized his tone. It was full of urgency and need, she had heard it for the first time when they had met by the river after he had believed she was dead.  
  
“Aye,” she said, “I need to fetch my clothes first.” She probably could not deny him anything he asked in that tone of voice.  
  
“But they are wet, you cannot wear them,” he said, and at once sounded much more normal when his focus shifted to her needs.  
  
“I can manage them, besides the rain has stopped so they will dry in the wind,” she said and lifted her head more to peck a kiss on his lips and leave to get her belongings. She had intended it to be only a small one, but he decided otherwise and held her with one arm so tightly she could not move an inch and kissed her softly. It gave her an odd pleasure to feel his strength and gentleness at the same time.  
  
“Go now,” Legolas said, loosening his grip a little, and noticed Sulrochil was in tears again. “Sultithen, what it is?”  
  
“I recalled Chief again... and Gliriel and Maegorodon and… they all are dead and we only…” she mumbled between her sobs.  
  
“Come here,” Legolas lifted her onto his lap and whispered, “I feel helpless to see you suffer and to know there is nothing I can do. I promise to kill any enemy that threatens you. I will stand between you and the mightiest sword, but I cannot save you from the enemy within yourself.”  
  
“I dislike crying all the time,” she said, draping her arms around him and crying uncontrollably, “but with you, all my shields just drop, and I cannot hold anything back. This is supposed to be a happy time for us, but I ruin it by bawling.”  
  
“You are not ruining anything,” he said and caressed her back. “When you and I are together, everything is good. If we laugh, it is good, and if we cry, it is also good. I want everything with you.”  
  
“You feel good,” Sulrochil said after a while when her crying had subsided. “You make me feel whole, and I cannot even imagine what we will feel after we get the Bond.”  
  
“They all know what love is. Chief, Gliriel and Maegorodon. They all would understand our need to concentrate on ourselves today,” Legolas said, and began tracing her eyebrows with his thumbs and wiped the tears on her cheeks. “This day began with war and death, but the days are always long, and this day can also hold love. Perhaps love should overcome all the sorrow of today.” He slid his palm slowly over her cheek and lips and over her ears and down her neck. He lowered his head and kissed her very gently.  
  
It was a kiss of consolation. To give comfort and to get comfort.  
  
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Sulrochil said and turned her upper body so she could touch his face with both hands. “I would not have survived without you.” She began tracing his eyebrows as he had done, but then just held his face gently while they were kissing. She only needed to think about how she loved him, and all her love poured into that kiss. She wanted to wipe out all of the grief and agony, and let the love overflow.  
  
“It has been a trying day for you,” there was a hint of worry in his voice, but he did not let the talking end the kiss. “How are you feeling now?” Their bodies squeezed against each other. There was no rush to anywhere, so they could let the kiss last longer than ever before.  
  
Even though he had been this close many times, never had Sulrochil truly been able to lighten up and bask in his arms. Now she wanted to get used to the feeling of him so close and to let go of her apprehensions. Cautiously, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the overwhelming sensation of how it felt when his fingers moved all over her face.  
  
The dance of his fingertips on her skin washed the remnants of her fears away. The touch reached deep down in her heart and softly caressed the frightened soul of hers. It was as if she had been clutching a closed, immature spruce cone tightly in her hand all her life, and with the tenderest touch, he made her open her palm.  
  
On her palm, the cone lay. In the warm sunshine of their love, it began ripening its seeds and thus opening little by little. Unavoidably, it soon reached maturity, all of its scales beautifully outspread.  
  
There was a huge urge in her heart to know all of him, and warily getting used to the feeling of their lips touching and tongues mingling. The unbridled want to meet everything that life had prepared for them drew her onward. She yearned to show her love, to feel loved, not being able to withdraw far from him.  
  
“I am feeling almost normal now,” she smiled, nuzzling her nose on his cheek. Suddenly, she felt abashed again and had to decoy her fears into jests. “That fearsome woman threatened to whip me clean with some kind of a horrible big bunch of birch branches if I do not wake up from my daze and wash.”  
  
“So you have finally met your match.” Legolas tried to reach her ear for a kiss, fully aware of her unconfidence and mixed feelings.  
  
Playfully, Sulrochil shied away from his attentions, “I almost laughed at your expression when she told you not to leave me alone at the yard.”  
  
“Well, she resembled you very closely," he said, moving to chase the other ear.  
  
Again, he was unsuccessful. Not because he did not try hard enough, but because even if Sulrochil was uncertain of many things, she knew he would hate to get it too easily. She giggled, “No, she did not!”  
  
“If you put your hair in a bun,” Legolas said and lifted her hair on her head, “you would look exactly like her when you are angry.”  
  
“I might do just that to frighten you,” she said bursting out laughing, “when we are someplace where you actually can see me - and not here in this insane blackness.”  
  
“Which is, of course, my fault,” he said and began laughing as well. Of course, it led to kissing some more. This time their kiss was as playful as their banter. It was almost impossible to kiss amid throes of laughter, but pressing their noses together and kissing between gales, somehow they managed it.  
  
“I will go now,” Sulrochil said, sliding her knuckles on his arm while rising up.  
  
“Do not linger,” Legolas said, pushing her softly away.  
  
She stood up, took the pouch containing her things, and left the room. It felt odd to see the sun shining. Everything seemed too bright after the darkness in the room and in her soul. She nodded politely to the man behind the desk, and he seemed to be smiling curiously at seeing her. The sauna was fortunately empty, and she found her clothes quickly. They were still wet, but who cared about wet clothes on her bonding day? Besides the sunshine would dry them soon. After she had dressed, she tucked all her stuff in her pockets, made her braids and felt like herself again.  
  
“What took you so long?” was the first thing Sulrochil heard when she entered their room again.  
  
“Did you pay for our room while I was gone?” she asked.  
  
“No,” he said, “I was waiting for you.”  
  
“Usually people can do other things too when they are waiting for someone.”  
  
“Do you still have your Messenger Badge with you, or have you thrown it away as one of your whims?”  
  
“I do have it, but why did you not show your badge - or whatever you happen to have with you to prove who you are?”  
  
“Can we go now?” he said, ignoring her question.  
  
“Legolas,” she said, taking his hand. His voice had sent chills down her spine, and it was apparent that this was again one of those things he would need to explain later. How much later, she did not know. “You seem to be a bit nervous. There is no need to worry.”  
  
“I just want us to get out of here and get the words pronounced. Grab your weapons.”  
  
She began to attach her gear and said, “So, you actually figured out how to put on your quiver while you were waiting for me.”  
  
“How about you just put that thing on and I watch the beautiful scenery out of the window while you are at it.”  
  
“I cannot wear two layers of wet clothing or they will never dry,” Sulrochil pondered. “I will only wear the jerkin, and you can carry my cloak.”  
  
“Why me?”  
  
“Because I hate carrying things on my hands.”  
  
“And for me, it must be of utmost joy?”  
  
“Good, you acknowledged it yourself,” she said, handing him the damp cloak.  
  
“I am not going to drag your wet belongings with me,” Legolas replied, spreading the piece of clothing in his hands and tossed the cloth back to her.  
  
“What are we waiting for?" she asked when she finally had everything in order. “Now hurry up!” She took his hand, and they walked out of the room and into the corridor bathing in orange sunlight, making everything bright. They meant the glance at each other’s eyes to be very brief but after the darkness of the room seeing the love in the eyes of the other made them stop walking and only stand in the narrow corridor and bask in the love which was plainly visible in their eyes and their whole demeanour  
  
“The man on the desk must have heard we left the room and is probably already wondering what we possibly could be doing in this corridor so long,” Sulrochil smiled.  
  
“He probably believes we are kissing here.”  
  
“But seeing the love in your eyes is right now better than kissing.”  
  
“Can you be sure about that?” Legolas asked sliding his hand softly around Sulrochil’s neck under her hair, and his smile indicated he was about to test if her opinion was correct.  
  
“You,” Sulrochil said sternly prodding her forefinger on his chest, pushing him further, “are not going to get anything with that smile!”  
  
“We shall see,” Legolas said, lowering his face very close to hers, but not enough to actually kiss her. The tip of his nose touched her temple, and slowly he began to traverse his way down, giving small kisses all over her cheek.  
  
Tangles of uncertainty unravelled. Sulrochil knew that smile would be the death of her.  
  
“Today,” Sulrochil whispered, tilting her head, and leisurely caved in to enjoy the moment better, “we shall begin our journey towards our shared world. We will be allowed to create stories together, sing with one another, and walk our shared path.”  
  
Her core was pulsating with life when he raised her face with his thumb to join their lips in bliss, all the time holding her so tightly she could not edge away from him.  
  
“The path is unknown,” she continued, hot blood of anticipation coursing through her veins, “but the destination is clear. Along our shared path, we shall travel together and eventually find the forest of our love. We shall create our own safe-haven, even if the world is crumbling around us.”  
  
The air was redolent with irrefutable truth of their union. Nothing could ever change who they were.  
  
“Every path leads somewhere," she abruptly declared between kisses.  
  
“That,” Legolas said and withdrew slightly from her, to stare at her eyes, dumbfounded, “was the most profound wisdom I have ever heard.”  
  
“I know nothing about wisdom,” she said, returning the gaze and digging the Messenger Badge out of her pocket. “But I do know that the best way to make you come to your senses is to shake you up.”  
  
She also knew this was the best way to hide her insecurity, and she placed the badge in his palm. “Here it is, but you will use it.”  
  
“Of course,” he said, taking the badge. “I would never subject you to that kind of blasphemy as talking to a stranger.”  
  
They managed to pay for the accommodation without significant problems - some amused smiles on the innkeeper’s part did not count. And they managed to get so deep into the woods, so their Wardens’ Bond could not be sensed by certain wizards riding like white wind somewhere on the road between Mirkwood and Lake-town.  
  
*  
  
The forest had waited for this moment. It felt the pain of the elves and wanted nothing more than to weave their souls together eternally, to intertwine their fingers, when they stand under the arches of the treetops and the forest shall make them as one.  
  
The goblets of lichens were filled with water. Woodpeckers’ melodic knocking echoed in the forest. The wind rustled the foliage of majestic old aspens. The storm had damaged the forest, but, like aspens through the ages, they soon filled the devastated lands with root sprouts of the lightest green. Everything else can be destroyed, but never the secret lives of the trees underground. The forest will prevail.  
  
Because the forest is love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be welcome.


End file.
